How the Hidden Love Broke
by terianoen
Summary: ON HIATUS: It all started in an abandoned corridor during a nasty fight and it ended somewhere neither of them were ready for. So, the question is what if Draco and Harry fell in love somewhere in their 5th year? Wouldn't their stories be just a little different? Basically a rewrite of the 5th, 6th, and 7th books with Draco involved in the main plot.
1. Part 1: Chapter 1

**Title:** How the Hidden Love Broke

 **Summary:** It started in an abandoned corridor during fifth year while they were having a nasty fight and it ended somewhere neither of them were ready for. Draco insisted 'flesh was flesh and it was only sex and this meant nothing.' But if that was the case, why can't he leave Harry's personal life alone?

 **Warnings:** Slash, meaning boyXboy. sex and violence.

 **Pairings, Part 1:** (Main)Harry/Draco, (some minor) Harry/CHo

 **Pairings, Part 2:** (Main)Harry/Draco, (Minor) Blaise/Neville, (pre) Hermione/Ron

 **Author's Note:** Contrary to what this first chapter implies, this fic will not be based on just sex. This is basically a rewrite of the 5th, 6th, and 7th books except with Draco directly involved in the main plot. It starts middle-beginning of the 5th book. All the main points will still happen, just not the same way. There will, however, still be a LOT of mature content and a lot of angst. There will be a happy ending.

 **Disclaimer:** I am writing this for fun and not profit. I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters therein.

Part I- Year 5

How the Love was Built

Chapter 1- The Beginning

The second Harry's eyes locked on Draco Malfoy a sense of defeat washed over him. The world really _was_ against him. He quickly straightened his back and faced Malfoy, his chin raised and his face defiant.

Harry Potter was in a foul mood. His head hurt, his eyes hurt, his legs hurt, but most of all his pride hurt. He was _tired_ of people calling him a liar. Especially crazy ministry officials who claimed he was lying and gave him a detention while everyone else told him to just shut his mouth.

Oh, how he just wanted to be left alone right now.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" He asked. He received a disdainful look as if _he_ was the one that was being bothersome. "Well?"

" _I_ was simply walking by, Potter." Malfoy answered, one pale eyebrow raised. "Why _must_ I want anything."

"Because you're you."

"Really, Potter." Malfoy rolled his eyes. "If anything, _you_ should be the one explaining yourself to me. _I'm_ the prefect after all." His smirk grew.

"And…?"

"And do you have a reason for wondering around the halls or are you trying to worry your precious fan group, so you may garner more attention for yourself." He paused delicately while Harry ground his teeth. "Perhaps you're pretending to be kidnapped so they'll believe you when you proclaim that another Dark Lord has risen, Hmm?"

"Why you little-," Harry shot forward, grasping the front of Malfoy's robes. "I'm _not_ lying!"

"You know, Potter." Malfoy answered back, looking completely unconcerned as he was used to being threatened like this. "People who have to keep saying that over and over, usually _are_."

"Shut _up._ " Harry snapped, slamming Malfoy back against the wall. He didn't even wince, just kept smirking into Harry's face as if he hadn't insulted him in the worst way. "Just shut up."

"Hit a nerve, have I?"

"You and your father are just the same, Malfoy." Harry said, and was finally rewarded with a reaction.

"You don't know anything about me or my father, Potter." Malfoy responded in a dangerous voice. Harry _knew_ he was about to cross a line. He _knew_ he should stop before he said something he would regret but the anger from Malfoy's previous words, from his situation in general was bubbling up around him. He wanted to _hurt_ Malfoy. He wanted Malfoy to _be_ hurt in return.

"You probably stay up late at night plotting ways to ruin people's lives." Harry said, his voice low and hoarse and entirely too close to Malfoy. "You probably think in your head 'what would daddy do' as you stand around torturing people."

He expected the punch. He did not, however, expect it to hurt as much as it did.

Malfoy let out a husky shout as his knuckles collided with Harry's jaw, sending them both stumbling across the corridor. He took a single step forward and punched him again. Harry had no idea where Malfoy's wand was, he didn't really know why he hadn't drawn it. Though he got the feeling that, like him, Malfoy _wanted_ to hurt, wanted to _be_ hurt.

It was sick. They were sick.

For the first time since he'd seen Cedric die, he didn't feel like he was dying inside.

He saw Malfoy's muscle's tense but before he could do anything, Harry lunged forward and tackled the other boy. Malfoy let out a weak yelp at his body collided with the ground, but his shock and pain lasted only a minute. They rolled over each other, exchanging punches between them

Somehow, Malfoy ended up on top, straddling Harry's waist with legs held down by ankles and feet. He had his slim fingers wrapped around Harry's wrists held firmly above his head and his forehead was pressed to Harry's chest, breathing heavily.

"Fuck." He said, his breath ghosting across Harry's torso, making his shiver. "Fuck, that was good." Harry shifted but found he was thoroughly trapped under the other boy. Malfoy slowly raised his silvery grey eyes and their gazes locked. Harry gasped as something hot shot down his stomach and lodged into his groin. Malfoy's smirk widened, his gaze dropped to a very private region.

"No." Harry said.

"You don't even know what I was thinking?" Malfoy answered, dropping his weight completely on top of Harry. Harry groaned as their groins lined up. He was surprised to discover that Malfoy was hard. Harder than him. And that definitely didn't help his libido.

"You might like it." Malfoy continued, lowing his mouth to Harry's ear. Harry shook his head as Malfoy's tongue traced his ear shell. "No? So, you _don't_ want me to wrap my _warm wet_ _mouth_ around you." Harry bit his lip to hold in the whimper, clamping his eyes shut as if _that_ would stop the images.

"Hmm. Pity." Malfoy sighed and started to move away. Harry's eyes shot open. Was he really going to leave Harry here? Like this? Malfoy's smirk grew even wider. He pressed down hard on Harry's wrists, muttering something under his breath and then taking his hands away.

Harry went to move his hands but found his wrists still thoroughly bound to the floor. His eyes widened in alarm, but Malfoy just quirked his lips in an almost smile. And he found himself relaxing. The tiny part of himself that was still sane was asking him _what_ he thought he was doing. But he didn't have any idea. Maybe he really was crazy like the prophet claimed. Judging by the fact that he was painfully hard now, he wasn't rejecting the idea.

Malfoy reached for his robes, carefully undoing them. Harry watched with wide eyes as Malfoy carelessly flicked the button of his trousers and then with one twist of his wrist had them and his pants down past his hips. He smirked down at Harry, _inviting_ him to look at his admittedly impressive length. Harry gulped, feeling his cheeks grow warm.

"I would let you touch it, but you've made it very clear you don't want to," Malfoy said. He was almost sweet, leaning over Harry and letting his breath dance along the edges of Harry's face. Harry thought he pass out as Malfoy started to wank himself.

It was beyond arousing. It was the hottest thing he'd ever seen. If he thought Cho was pretty, he had to redefine his whole conception of beauty because Malfoy was the embodiment of it.

Malfoy let out a loud moan, throwing his head back and letting his blond hair shimmer in the dim candle light. His other hand dropped down to Harry as if for balance—right above Harry's crotch.

Harry let out a breathy whimper and arched his back, pulling at his wrists and trying to make Malfoy's hand move just a _little_ bit lower. He was so hard. Painfully hard. He wanted—no, he _needed_ released. He needed Malfoy to touched him. He couldn't keep watching Malfoy like that and nothave him touch him.

Malfoy looked down at Harry, his lips parted as he panted and then his lips twisted, and he smirked, eyes dancing with amusement. A pang went through Harry's chest. He knew Malfoy was only using him to get off. To feel a sense of triumph over The Boy Who Lived. This would probably be all over school tomorrow. But right now, Harry couldn't think about anything besides that hand right above his aching member and Malfoy's other hand wrapped tightly around Malfoy himself.

"Do you want me to touch you now?"Malfoy asked. Harry bit his lip against the moan at the _idea_ of Malfoy touching him. He nodded.

"Out loud, Harry." Malfoy said. He did moan at the sound of his given name on Malfoy's tongue.

"Yes."

"Yes, what?" Malfoy answered, his hand drawing a damning circle along Harry's stomach.

"Yes, I want you to touch me." Harry whimpered, and Malfoy smiled. Open and tender and sweet, and Harry almost came without ever even being touched.

Malfoy's hand gently slid inside Harry's robes. He skillfully undid the button and plunged his hand into Harry's pants. Harry gasped loudly at the feeling of Malfoy's hand around him.

"Oh, bloody hell!" He cried out.

"Tell me, Harry," Malfoy said, his voice just as tender as his smile. "Tell me how you want it."

"I want…" He trailed off as Malfoy's thumb stroked along his head, smearing precum along the shaft.

"Yes, lover?" Malfoy's soft voice made Harry shiver from the bottom of his feet to the tips of his bound arms.

"I want your…your mo-mouth around me, li-like you said." Harry whispered, his face heating up.

"Anything for you, lover." Malfoy smiled against his ear and Harry shivered again. Draco slinked down Harry's body until he was aligned with his open groin. Harry groaned when he nuzzled it and felt Draco's smile. He carefully pulled Harry's pants down to expose his erect penis. And then he just looked at it.

Harry gulped, irrational panic shooting through him. _What if he's so disgusted he leaves?_ Then Draco looked up at him and smiled pleasantly. He licked a clean stripe up Harry's length, making Harry shudder as his silver-grey eyes never left Harry's.

"Beautiful." He murmured, and Harry shuddered for a completely different reason.

Draco smiled again as he lowered his mouth to suck on Harry's head, swirling his tongue around. Harry groaned, his hands clenching against the invisible bonds.

"Dr-draco!" Harry arched his back as Draco took him completely in his mouth, sucking so hard his cheeks caved. "Draco, I w-want t-to touch…." Harry whimpered. He was sure he wasn't coherent at the end, but Draco seemed to understand. He reached behind him, grabbing his wand in one hand and with a practiced swish, Harry's arms were released. He immediately dropped them down and laced his fingers through Draco's gleaming blond locks.

They were surprising soft. Harry didn't know why he was surprised. Of course, Malfoy would never let his hair be anything but perfectly cared for and perfectly soft, but it was one thing to think that and another thing to _know_ it.

Harry arched his back again as Draco's tongue swiped the whole length of him. He could _feel_ the smirk on Draco's face. He moaned when he felt one of Draco's hands reach down and fondle his balls. Draco tugged, and he cried out. He felt Draco's silver-grey eyes on his face, and he had to work to make himself look down to meet his gaze.

His orgasm took him almost completely by surprise. One minute he was balanced precariously on the edge and the next he was looking into the silver-grey eyes of Draco Malfoy, who had his mouth wrapped around his cock, his hand down his pants, and was calling him lover. It was all too much.

Harry's body tightened, and he cried out, cum shooting down Draco's throat without warning. Luckily, Draco didn't seem too surprised. He just swallowed calmly, before sitting up and looking down at Harry with an unreadable expression.

Harry came down from his orgasmic high to Malfoy buttoning up his trousers and redoing his robes. Draco's were already done up and his groin was noticeable softer than when they started. Harry wondered vaguely when he'd come but he could tell by the look in Malfoy's eyes that he wasn't allowed to ask.

"Next time maybe warn me when you're about to come." Malfoy said, his voice cold, calculating, leaving Harry with an empty feeling inside his chest Harry was reaching for him, but Draco was already gone, his footsteps echoing down the corridor as he walked away.

Harry sat up, watching Malfoy walk away, leaving him with one very important question.

"Next time?" Harry whispered.


	2. Part 1: Chapter 2

**_Warning: Some text will be from the original book._**

Chapter 2- And What Are We

Draco _hated_ Care of Magical Creatures. Not because of any true dislike of the subject but because he was obligated to hate it due to the oaf that taught it most days. Besides, it was one of the classes he'd always shared with Potter, so it was always a class he was required to be foul in.

He'd watched Potter eat his breakfast before following Granger and Weasley out and to their morning classes. All the while Pansy was talking his ear off about this or that and about how they had this class and she wished they had that and how she'd rather be doing this. He'd felt like smacking her upside the head, but he just nodded along and pretended to be amused by her. After all, she did that to him when he was feeling especially dramatic, it was only fair.

He watched Potter, Granger, and Weasley walk down the path with the other Gryffindors, stopping in front of Professor Grubbly-Plank. She was the Professor hired to replace Hagrid while he was off failing at his Order business. Of course, that didn't make Draco _like_ the subject anymore, it just made it less painful. He kept his eyes firmly locked on Harry, so he didn't miss it when the other boy's eyes flicked to his and stayed there.

Heat bubbled in Draco's stomach even as he sneered. Potter flushed, scowled back at him, and then turned away but not before Draco saw the hurt flash through in them. Shame should _not_ have been Draco's first reaction. He should have been able to laugh and mock The Golden Gryffindor. The whole school should have known what had happened yesterday and yet—

He had no excuse for his silence.

It wasn't like Potter was remotely the first person he'd had sex with. Not even the first boy. It was strange how, the whole time he'd been with Harry, it was as if a strange fragile peace had settled over him. He hadn't thought of his father or Voldemort or—

But no, he was just confused. He'd get over this—this infatuation in a day or two.

He sighed as Professor Grubbly-Plank asked a question and Granger answered in five seconds. Besides, even if he _was_ besotted—which he wasn't—it wasn't as if he could do anything about it. His father would have his head in five seconds flat—faster than Granger could answer a teacher's question, he thought with amusement as she did it again. Suddenly, all the students started to toward the table up front. Draco eyed them warily, wondering vaguely what he'd missed.

"Oh, really, Draco," Pansy said airily. "They're _not_ going to bite you." Then she strolled along after everyone else who was crowding around the table. Draco, who didn't even know what _they_ were, much less what they were supposed to be doing, was not inclined to follow.

Instead he surveyed the open area, studying everyone else. His eyes landed on Potter who was completely focused on Professor Grubbly-Plank. Draco cocked his head to the side as Potter said something, but he only caught the word Hagrid. So, the Golden Boy was concerned about his giant friend, was he? He took a step forward.

"Never you mind," Grubbly-Plank answered, before moving away from him. Draco smirked, taking her place beside Harry to scoop up whatever ridiculous thing they were supposed to be studying.

"Maybe the great oafs got himself badly injured." Draco sneered at Potter.

"Why are you acting like that?" Potter sighed, sounding strangely defeated. It drew Draco up short, Potter wasn't supposed to act like this. He was supposed to get defensive and yell back.

"Like what?"

"Like an arsehole." He answered, and Draco laughed.

"You're the one that asked a question, I was merely answering it." He said, shooting in the dark, he didn't even know if Potter had asked a question.

"How is you insulting Hagrid answering the question?"

"I was merely suggesting that maybe he's been messing with stuff that's too _big_ for him, if you get my drift." He sneered. Potter looked at him for three heartbeats before responding.

"What do you mean?" Potter asked. Draco blinked at him, he wasn't serious. He couldn't be. There was no way Harry Potter didn't know where his useless giant friend was. "What do you know, Draco?" He asked the question softly, with absolutely none of the malice Draco expected to hear from him.

"Just what my father's told me." Draco answered in the same tone. He played with the little creature in his hand, finding Potter's eyes suddenly very hard to meet. He didn't know what he was doing, but he found himself unable to walk away as he should.

"Which is?"

"Why do you want to know so bad?" Draco asked, looking up at Potter through narrowed eyes. "Why don't you just ask all you _friends_ in your precious order."

"You know about The Order?" Potter's eyes widened.

"Like it's some big secret?" Draco answered with a frown sarcastically. Potter blinked, blushed, and dropped his eyes.

"They didn't even tell me until this summer."

"You're lying. Why wouldn't they tell you?" he said and immediately knew he'd struck a nerve. Potter's eyes flashed, and he opened his mouth to say something.

"Harry?" Granger said, suddenly right there. "Everything all right?" She placed a hand on his shoulder, which was promptly shaken off.

"Fine, Hermione." He answered, casting an annoyed look over his shoulder before turning and stomping away from them both. Draco raised an eyebrow after his retreating form.

"I don't know what you said to him-," Granger started.

"You're very much mistaken." Draco interrupted. "After that display, I very much doubt it was me he was angry with." He smirked at her taken aback expression before turning on his heel and going to try and find Pansy again.

* * *

Draco was walking down the corridor, thinking instead of watching where he was going. Which was maybe his first mistake. His second was expecting people to avoid him because of who he was. Because seriously, who wouldn't be afraid of Draco fucking Malfoy.

 _Obviously_ someone _isn't,_ Draco thought as a solid body collided with his, sending them both sprawling to the ground in a tangled mess. Draco let out a string of curses and shoved the other person off, standing and brushing himself off. He was about to let out a hex too when he caught sight of the emerald eyes watching him warily. His body immediately relaxed, and his hand dropped. Both without his permission.

"Potter," he smiled alluringly, "couldn't wait to see-," then he caught sight of Potter's hands. Harry had his right hand circled around his left wrist, holding his hand close to his body as if it really hurt. There were cuts carved into the skin of the hand, making blood ooze out and onto the sleeve of his robes. "What happened to your hand?" Draco murmured, reaching for the other boy.

"Nothing, I'm fine." Harry promptly pulled away from him, moving to hide his hand from view. Draco rolled his eyes, as if that was going to work. His hand snapped out and snatched Harry's wrist, bringing the back of his hand up to Draco's face for inspection. "Malfoy, stop." Draco refused to acknowledge Potter as examined Harry's hand.

There were _words_ carved into the back of Harry's hand. _I must not tell lies_. It was some type of dark magic, that was obvious from the feel of the magic that seeped into Draco's skin. Harry winced and tried to pull his hand away and hot anger flashed through Draco, how dare anyone mark Potter, _Harry,_ like this. As if Harry was lying about the Dark Lord.

"Umbridge did this to you," Draco said finally, looking up at Potter.

"How did you-," Potter's eyes widened.

"As if anyone else would do something like this." Draco realized his thumbs rubbed soothing circles along his wrist and palm and made himself stop. "How?"

"Some type of quill." Potter shrugged and looked away, his cheeks faintly flushed.

"Blood quill, I can probably heal it."

"You can?" Potter's gaze snapped back to Draco in shock.

"I think so." Draco answered, and then hesitated, dropping Potter's hand as if he had been shocked. What was he doing? Potter stared at him for a long uncomfortable moment before saying anything else, and Draco almost thought he would turn and walk away.

"I almost don't want to," Potter said, his voice so quiet Draco almost missed the words.

"What?"

"It almost feels wrong to just heal it," Potter answered, looking down at his scarred hand. "As if I'm forgetting what the ministry is capable of."

"Don't be absurd." Draco snapped, grabbing Potter by the arm and dragging him down the corridor and into an abandoned classroom. Potter followed him easily, stumbling only once at Draco's tight grip on his arm. Draco stopping in the middle of the classroom, letting go of Potter's arm and holding his hand out impatiently.

"Let me see then," Draco said.

"You can at least say please, you know." Potter answered.

"I'm aware. Now give me your hand," he said. Potter look at him for a long time before sighing and holding his hand out.

"I don't understand you," Potter said. "I don't understand why you're helping me." Draco studied his hand, pulling his wand out and beginning to cast. He decided that Potter's comment was rhetorical—and not because he didn't know the answer himself. Potter gasped as his skin began to knit back together seamlessly.

There was a beat and Draco reluctantly let go of Potter's hand. He had a feeling they were both waiting for the other to say something, but neither knew what.

"What if Umbridge notices?" Potter asked.

"Do you have another detention?" Draco answered.

"No."

"Well, see that it stays that way," Draco said. More silence. Longer this time. Draco shifted and then stepped back. "I should get going. Places to be," he was just turning on his heel when Potter's voice stopped him.

"Last time-," he hesitated. "Last time, you said…"

"I said…?" Draco answered, looking over his shoulder. Potter was flushed, looking at Draco with bright green eyes full of an emotion that no one had ever used to look at Draco with before.

"You said there would be a next time," Harry said, and Draco stared. He stared because he didn't understand. Potter acted as if _he_ was the confusing one, but how could he not see just how strange he himself was?

"Do _you_ want there to be a next time?" Draco asked.

"I…" Harry trailed off, his face flushing even more. "I have a choice."

"Why wouldn't you have a choice?" Draco answered, turning and stepping up closer to Harry. He was close enough that Harry had to tilt his head up to look Draco in the face.

"If I agree…" Harry started, and Draco raised an eyebrow. "I just—what do you expect of me?"

"What do you mean?"

"I…" Harry flushed again, his yes darting away and then back again. Draco's eyes were locked on his face, and his wanted to feel. He wanted that peace he had felt before. He wanted to touch and kiss and suck and feel and be felt.

"What do _you_ want, Harry?"

"I… I want-," Harry tried again but couldn't seem to get the words out.

"Tell me." He murmured, his voice low and seductive. He put his hand on Harry's chest and shoved him into the wall. Harry collided with a loud 'oomph' that went straight to Draco's cock. "Tell me, Harry, do you want people to know that I had your cock in my mouth? Do you want to walk around with my marks on your body and my hands on you?"

"I… I don't..." Harry answered. Draco pulled back, disappointment, sharp and hard shooting through him. But he blinked and made sure Harry had never seen it.

"Well," Draco said, stepping back. Potter reached for him, but he took hold of his wrist and gently set them aside. "It's up to you. I've no opinion."

"If you don't care, why do it at all?" Potter scowled, standing straight.

"Because it feels good. Does there have to be another reason?" Malfoy raised an eyebrow.

"So, if I wanted a girlfriend, you wouldn't care." Potter snapped irritably.

"No." He didn't even hesitate. He didn't hesitate even though he wasn't sure he knew the answer. "And if you can't handle me being with other people, then I suggest you say no." He was in that zone. The zone his father had taught him. The one where he heard how cold his voice could be, how harsh. Without mercy. He could hear it, but he could do nothing to stop it.

"So, you can really have sex with no emotions?" Pooter asked. He sounded hurt, his green eyes refusing to look over at Draco as he spoke. And Draco could only raise an eyebrow at Potter.

"Yes."

"Well," Potter answered.

"I'd better be off," Draco said, stepping away.

"Wait," Potter called. Draco hesitated, almost biting his lip as Potter's hand reached out and then fell back down. "I…"

"What?"

"What _do_ you know about Hagrid?" Harry answered, and cold disappointment ran through Draco, but he shoved it back down again.

"Why do you want to know so badly?" Draco raised an eyebrow.

"Because I'm _tired_ of never knowing anything." Harry answered. "No one ever tells me anything, they just keep me in the dark for my own protect but that's not protection, that's prison!" His voice had risen to a yell by the end, but Draco just watched him, keeping his thoughts on the inside.

"You really don't know where he is?"

"No," Harry grinded his teeth.

"Then, I suppose I'll tell you," Draco said, and Harry's eyes widened in shock. He obviously hadn't been expecting that.

"Why?"

"What do you mean?"

"You said…" Harry said, still staring at him with those wide green eyes.

"I said we should enjoy ourselves even if it'll never come to anything."

"But-."

"I neversaid _you_ didn't meant anything to me." He murmured so low he almost wished Harry didn't hear him. Harry's eyes widened even further.

And he was leaning forward as if he was going to kiss Draco and Draco could feel the panic run through him because two second ago Harry hadn't even wanted him and now… and now Draco didn't know what he wanted and how could he be expected to

Draco turned his head to the side a second before their lips touched and Harry's soft, sweet lips collided with his cheek. Potter jerked away, his face turning beat red in humiliation.

"I-I'm so-sorry." Potter stuttered. Draco just smiled, it wasn't Potter's fault kissing Harry might just break him.

"You said you wanted to know about your giant friend?" Draco asked, raising an eyebrow. Harry nodded slowly, seeming relieved that Draco was moving the conversation along.


	3. Part 1: Chapter 3

**_Warning: sex, angst_**

Chapter 3- And How Could You Be Jealous

Ron was made Gryffindor Keeper. Harry didn't even know he was trying out, what with a combination of Umbridge's detentions, Ron's own secrecy, and his own obsession with Malfoy.

Harry tried to be excited for Ron, he really did. When he stumbled into the Gryffindor common room Friday night after his escape from Umbridge's detention, but all he could think about was Draco. He could tell Hermione noticed something was off, especially after his exhibition earlier during Care of Magical Creatures, but he couldn't really find it in him to care. He just wanted to be alone, preferable somewhere where he could wank to the memory of nimble fingers around his wrist and blond hair illuminating candlelight. Harry sighed, made his excuses, and headed up to bed.

The next morning Harry crept out of bed at a ridiculously early hour, threw on clothes and shoes—being careful not to wake anyone else in his dorm—and snuck out of Gryffindor tower. Malfoy had said that if Harry was even one minute late, he would leave, and Harry really didn't put it past him to do just that.

He paused outside the classroom, unsure. What if Malfoy changed his mind? Then he jumped when he heard footsteps from behind him. He turned and came face to face with Cho Chang. He blinked at her and then blushed.

"Hey." He said automatically.

"Oh…. Hey," she answered, sounding embarrassed. She opened her mouth like she was going to say more but the classroom in front of Harry opened. Malfoy stepped out, casting Harry an impatient look.

With the two of them standing across from each other, it was impossible for Harry not to make comparisons. Cho's long black hair shimmered in the candlelight in a completely different way than Draco's did. It was more feminine and looked less like the sun had fallen out of the sky and was trying to blind you. Her eyes were warmer too, less sharp than Draco's, who always seemed to be able to pin Harry with one look of his silver-grey stare. Cho was pretty, petite, and while the idea of talking to her scared Harry, it was nothing to what he felt about Draco.

Draco was a fallen angel, all white blond hair, shimmering eyes, high cheekbones, and sharp delicate angles that were somehow just as masculine as any other boy. He radiated beauty and Harry knew he had the power to break him or make him whole with just a few simple words.

"Just how long _are_ you going to stand outside, Potter."

"Oh, um-I…." Harry trailed off, unsure where to go from there. What was one supposed to say to one's secret… whatever Draco and him were—when asked about one's crush? He blushed harder. Malfoy narrowed his eyes at Harry's lack of eloquence.

"Malfoy _._ " Cho said, and Malfoy's head whipped around to stare at her.

"Chang." He answered, his blank mask falling back into place. It was strange to watch, how Harry could actually _see_ Draco's silver-grey eyes clear of emotion and his lips curve into a sneer.

"Were you waiting for Harry?" Cho frowned as if she found this unlikely. Malfoy's eyes flicked to Harry before they moved back to Cho.

"No, of course not." He answered with a flawless sneer that would have made Harry flinch if Cho hadn't been right there. If he didn't know that he'd asked Malfoy to keep up appearances. "He's all yours, Chang." Then he turned on his heel and left without a backward glance.

"Not very pleasant, is he?" Cho raised an eyebrow.

"No," Harry sighed, watching Draco's retreating back. "No, sometimes he's really not." Cho cast him an odd look.

"Well, I have to go send a letter, see you, Harry."

"See you." He responded distractedly.

Once she left, he was confronted with the problem of being awake at an ungodly hour on a Saturday with several hours until breakfast and no Malfoy to entertain him. He sighed and headed back up to the Gryffindor tower. Might as well do some homework.

Needless to say, Hermione was shocked to wake up and find Harry doing homework. He just shrugged and said he couldn't sleep. She eyed him warily but seemed to take it all in strides. Ron came down the stairs a few minutes later and they all headed down to breakfast together.

Malfoy never looked at him. And every time Harry looked up to find Malfoy nodding along to something Parkinson said, his mood got lower and lower. When Ron asked him for help practicing before their team Quidditch practice, Harry jumped on the opportunity. He needed a distraction. Any distraction. Hermione looked at him sharply.

"I think you should both work on homework for a little while," she said. "Even though Harry did some morning, he can't have gotten too far." Actually, he had, but he'd rather argue with her about homework then why he'd been up so early.

"No," Harry answered, maybe a little too quickly. They both looked at him. "I mean, we can work on it later, right, Ron?"

"Yeah," Ron said, his face lighting up. "We'll have plenty of time, Hermione." She sniffed but didn't say anything as they got up from the table.

Harry threw Malfoy one last look but found his eyes firmly locked on Parkinson. Something hot and ugly coiled itself in his gut but he refused to give it room to breathe.

* * *

Ron was good. Not great but good. He blocked most of the goals Harry threw at him and seemed to do a pretty good job handling the Quaffle. After practicing for a while in the morning, they headed to lunch, where they ignored Hermione's pointed looks of disapproval.

Harry found his gaze hesitantly locked on the Slytherin table. He didn't expect Malfoy to be looking back at him, but he was surprised this time. Malfoy's eyes were already on him, fixed in a tight eyed glare. Harry blinked, looking away quickly. Was it just one of Malfoy's facades or was he genuinely angry about something?

"Harry, mate," Ron nudged him, breaking Harry out of his thoughts. "Time to head down." Harry nodded, and they made their way to the quidditch pitch for practice with the rest of the team. Everyone else was bustling around, preparing for the practice while the twins were making fun of Ron, but Harry was in a daze, his mind back on the dining hall and Malfoy's dark eyed glare.

When they stepped out onto the pitch, he stopped wondering what had made Malfoy angry and started concentrating on _not_ dismounting his broom and kicking the pompous twat in his soft spot. Malfoy, Parkinson, Crabb, and Goyle were waiting in the stands for them and as soon as they stepped out onto the pitch, they started to cat-call and goad.

"Hey, Potter," Malfoy's voice broke through the noise, "are you sure you're not feeling faint? Sick? Need a break? I'm sure everyone here will be willing to listen to any tale you're willing to tell." Harry gridded his teeth and ignored him, reminding himself that he'd brought this on himself. He'd _asked_ Malfoy to treat him the same as he always had.

"Alright," Angelina, their captain called, "we're going to start with some passes to warm up." She passed the Quaffle to Harry and he passed it straight to the next person.

"Then again," Malfoy continued as the Quaffle was passed around in the circle. "We might not be so inclined to _believe_ you. After all, who would want-," The rest was lost in the laughter of his friends as Ron fumbled and then dropped the Quaffle.

Malfoy looked surprised by this development but turned his attention from Harry reluctantly. Harry ducked his head to hide the clenching of his teeth. He didn't care what kind of relationship he had with Malfoy, he had _no_ right to…. Harry blinked back the stinging behind his eyes.

* * *

Harry stalked along the stands. He _knew_ Malfoy was here. He'd watched Parkinson leave with Crabb and Goyle and a disgruntled expression. But the bastard was hiding. _As well he should be,_ Harry thought mercilessly, _when I get my hands on him, I'll-_

Suddenly, something solid connected with Harry's back, sending him balanced precariously on a stand seat with something heavy pinning him down by his hips and hands on his wrists. His glasses had gone skew, but he would recognize that blob of white blond and those two grey blurs anywhere. He flinched as warm breath wafted across his face and then gasped as a wet tongue ran along his cheek.

"Malfoy!" His eyes locked on Malfoy in outrage. "What are you doing!? Get _off_ me!"

"Hmm, I don't think I want to, Potter." Malfoy leaned down, his face inches away from Harry's. "And I think I'm going to have to teach you a lesson about remembering to respect me." Harry shivered, his cock twitching against his will. He saw Malfoy's lips twitch as he rocked his hips down _hard_ against Harry's growing erection.

"Malfoy, stop." Harry moaned, almost whimpering against the pressure of Malfoy's groin against his own. "Please, stop." Malfoy immediately stopped moving but he didn't take his body away. It was excruciatingly hard to think with his entire body pressed against Malfoy's and his hands held above his head and _just_ beginning to realize that he _liked_ it when Malfoy was being forceful. He was so sick

"You really want me to leave?" Malfoy asked softly, and Harry whined as Malfoy's breath ghosted across his face.

"Why did you say those things to me?" Harry whispered. There was a beat and then:

"Don't be daft, Potter. I did it because I _felt_ like it," Draco answered, and Harry flinched. "Now I _feel_ like doing this." He rammed his hips down and Harry moaned loudly as their groins connected again. "Are you going to stop me again?" Harry shook his head weakly. "Good." Malfoy rocked his hips back and then forward again, his fingernails scrapping along the skin of Harry's wrists and Harry cried out in half-pain, half-pleasure.

And it felt so good. So good to let go and know someone else would catch him. To let go and just _feel._

"Do I need to restrain you again or will you keep them there?" Malfoy asked, pressing down on his wrists and making the bench they were balanced on creak. Harry opened his mouth to argue but Malfoy chose that moment to jab down with his hips and all that came out was a loud guttural moan. "Potter?" Malfoy asked innocently, "you'll keep your arms right there till I tell you it's ok to move, won't you?" Harry nodded helplessly. "Good boy." Malfoy smirked, his head dropping down to nuzzle Harry's neck.

"I'm not a dog." Harry answered. He wasn't sure how he even got it out, but apparently Malfoy was none too happy about it either. He immediately ground down with his hips, and Harry gasped, eyes flying wide as they rocked and almost fell to the side.

Draco immediately planted his feet on either side of Harry, bringing Harry's knees up around his waist and never loosing contact with their groins. _"Draco_." He whined as Draco jabbed down again. Draco smiled against his skin a second before he bit down on Harry's neck. Harry cried out brokenly as Draco sucked in time with their thrusts and his other hand gently alternating between playing and pulling in his hair.

It hurt. The hand in his hair, the teeth on his neck, the hips against his own, the hard metal on his back and yet he had never received so much pleasure in his life. Harry's hands curled into fists above his head, wishing he could touch, feel. He would have asked—no he would have begged Draco if he thought he could get more than a word past the broken gasps that were coming out of his mouth as he thrust wantonly against Draco.

Draco gave one last suck against Harry's neck before soothing the skin with his tongue and pulling away, never stopping his hips or his hands. Harry moaned, knowing he would have a love bite there and _liking_ the idea.

"Draco," Harry almost sobbed, as Draco continued to roll his hips against his, "I-I'm gonna-," his body tensed and then he was coming in his pants. Half a second later, he felt Draco tense above him and was sure the Ice Prince of Slytherin had followed him in his orgasm.

Then suddenly Malfoy's warm body was up and away from him. Harry opened his eyes to find Malfoy waving his wand to cast a cleaning charm on the both of them. He kept his eyes firmly away from Harry's as he straightened his robes and then walked away without a backward glance.

Harry curled his knees up to his chest and put his head in his hands. He was _not_ going to cry. He was _not_ going to feel sorry for himself. He'd gotten himself into this. He knew, he _knew_ he didn't mean anything to Malfoy. That he was just a sexual release, an easy shag, a toy….

That didn't mean it didn't hurt to be reminded.

* * *

The next day brought a change to the way Hogwarts was run. Umbridge was made the high inquisitor. Harry shook his head, letting his fringe fall into his eyes as he wondered what _exactly_ that meant. Obviously, she had more power and she would be inspecting classes and such, but he didn't exactly understand what it would mean for the school in general. and he _wasn't_ in the mood to ask Hermione and have her mother him.

He sighed, looking down the hall. He'd skipped breakfast, unable to take another morning of Malfoy adamantly pretending he existed just to flirt with Parkinson. He wished he could just wave Draco off the way Malfoy waved him off. Forget all about him except when he was horny and immediately in front of him. He tugged self-consciously on the collar of his shirt, the bruise Malfoy had left on his neck was thankfully right below the collar of his robes, but he still felt like everyone could see it when they were looking at him.

"Mr. Potter." A shrill girly voice snapped him back to the present. He turned to find himself facing Umbridge, who was looking at him with a disapproving air. "What are you doing wandering the halls?" She asked.

"I was just heading to my first class, Professor." Harry answered, gritting his teeth.

"At this hour?" She squawked, her eyes narrowing. "Shouldn't you be eating breakfast with the rest of your classmates?"

"I wasn't hungry." He answered, feeling his annoyance rising.

"Well, Mr. Potter," she looked down at him. "Walking around the halls while everyone else is at breakfast, anyone would think you're up to no good." He gaped at her. _She_ thought _he_ was up to no good? "In fact, I'm almost sure of it."

"I'm not-," he started, his voice dangerously close to a hiss.

"Ah, Potter," another voice interrupted, and Harry stiffened in surprise. The universe _really did_ hate him. "There you are." Malfoy came to a graceful stop next to Umbridge, flashing Harry his teeth in a rather intimidating leer.

"Mr. Malfoy," Umbridge turned to him, her eyes flashing with suspicion. "What do you mean? You were looking for Mr. Potter?"

"I was." Malfoy lied easily, "you see, Professor, Potter is pants at potions." He flashed her a conspiratorial smile. "And the first class we have this morning is potions, where Potter is in fact my partner. Well, since I fancy a passing grade, I usually demand Potter comes early so we have plenty of time, even with his colossal screw ups inbound." He looked Umbridge in the eye throughout, never wavering or seeming ill at ease.

Until Harry looked down. Draco was tapping his forefinger against his leg. A steady rhythm as if he was nervous _._ Harry blinked, Malfoy couldn't possibly be nervous. Umbridge continued to look at him for a moment and the pace of the tapping increased.

"Well," Umbridge said finally. "I see." Though Harry got the feeling she really didn't. "Off you both go then." She waved them off and Malfoy immediately snatched Harry's elbow and dragged him in the general direction of the dungeons. As soon as Umbridge was a good way behind them, Malfoy ducked to the left, shoving Harry into an empty classroom and spelling the door closed behind them.

Harry found himself pressed against the wall with Malfoy's hands on either side of his head and Malfoy's leg in between his own. He knew he could have gotten away is he wanted—Malfoy wasn't even really touching him—but when Draco turned his shining silver-grey eyes on him, he found he couldn't move.

"How stupid can you get, Potter?" Malfoy asked, his voice low and angry and Harry should not have already been hard.

"What are you talking about, Malfoy?" Harry answered.

"You go around egging the woman on and you don't even know the consequences?" One of Draco's hands raised to pinch the bridge of his nose. Harry was fascinated by the motion, he'd never seen Malfoy do that before. He frowned, he'd really never seen Malfoy anything but scornful or blank.

"I _Still_ don't know what you're talking about," Harry answered, forcing himself to look past him. Malfoy sighed and shifted. He tried not to think about how good Malfoy's body would feel against his. How much he wanted to give in, push up on toes and press his lips to Draco's. But he knew Malfoy would probably hit him, he'd been clear he didn't want to kiss. And besides, Harry himself was hurt. No matter how much he didn't want to admit it.

"Things are about to get a lot worse with Umbridge." Malfoy said, and Harry could feel him gritting his teeth in frustration.

"What do you mean?"

"I _mean_ that you can't go blasting your temper off every time she insults you." A muscle in his jaw clenched. "She could really hurt you. Now she has the power to really hurt you." There was a strange lilt to his voice and Harry wanted to look into his eyes and see if it was reflected there too.

"I'm just supposed to stand around while she insults me? While she spreads lies and-," Harry started, his voice rising.

"Have you ever considered," Malfoy cut across his words smoothly. He leaned in, his breath ghosting across Harry's face. Harry shivered, trying to think past how close Malfoy was, "the idea that maybe people would stop treating you like a child if you stopped acting like one?" Harry gaped, not knowing whether to be offended or not. "Maybe if you stopped rising to the bait, people would stop baiting you."

"I can't just not defend myself." He whispered, struggling to keep his thoughts coherent.

"Do you remember what I said to you about liars?" Draco answered. Harry frowned, thinking back to Draco's words: 'People who have to say they're not lying over and over, usually are.'

"But I'm _not_ lying," Harry said, and Malfoy raised an eyebrow, not even swaying and Harry sighed. "But I _can't_ just-."

"My, my," Draco smiled slowly, real annoyance coloring his tone, "your pride is more important than your life," his eyes flicked to Harry's hand, "than your health, your happiness. You're starting to sound like a Slytherin, Harry."

"You know," Harry answered. "I _was_ almost sorted into Slytherin." Draco raised an impressed eyebrow before quickly scowling, pressing his thigh against Harry warningly. Harry whimpered pitiful, his hands curling against Draco's robes.

"Don't try to distract me," he answered. "Besides, if you were Slytherin, you wouldn't have a problem hiding your true feelings."

"It just seems wrong."

"Not everything is so black and white. Right and wrong." Draco answered, tensed and then sighed as if consciously trying to calm himself down. Harry felt a moment's regret that Draco didn't feel as if he could let himself go around him but quickly shoved it aside. "It's not like anyone is asking you to switch sides or anything, Harry, I'm just asking you to take care of yourself. You're being reckless. I don't think you realize how much Umbridge could really hurt you."

"But it's not just about me, Draco," Harry said. "How would that look to everyone else if I just suddenly seem like I'm giving in."

"Who cares about everyone else," Draco's eyes flashed. "The whole world is _not_ your responsibility, Harry. _You_ deserve to be happy. _You._ And if that means shutting your mouth and letting your pride take a few hits for a few hours of peace, isn't it worth it?"

"I just-." Harry started, trying to think of another argument.

"And what about me, Harry?" Draco asked, shattering Harry's thought process. "Your hand is completely cleared. What if Umbridge finds out _I_ did that? Do you know what my father would do to me?" Harry scowled, feeling shamed. Feeling manipulated.

"You're trying to manipulate me." He snapped. "I thought-."

"You're right," Draco agreed easily, his hand moved from beside Harry's head to cup his cheek, his touch horribly gentle. "I am." Harry blinked at both the words and the gesture. "But only because you don't seem to know what's good for you." He sighed, his thumb caressing Harry's cheekbone before dropping to his chest. "Look, it's your choice, but if you _choose_ to be an idiot at least realize the consequences of your actions first." His hand dropped even further, massaging Harry's now half-hard groin. Harry immediately groaned, pushing into the sensation. Draco chuckled, lowing his mouth to Harry's jawline.

And Harry remember that he was just a toy to Malfoy. He hadn't forgotten, but it was hard to pull away from Draco when he was touching him like that. And it wasn't all because of the physical sensations. No, it had much more to do with the pain and the pleasure and the lack of control filling up the spot inside himself that he'd gotten so tired of feeling.

Draco shoved Harry's robes to the side, lowering his mouth to suck on the already formed love-bite on Harry's neck.


	4. Part 1: Chapter 4

**_Warning: text from original book, refences to sex, wanking_**

Chapter 4- And Who is Lying

Draco found himself sulking. Which was unacceptable. Malfoy's _didn't_ sulk. Especially over something as foolish as Harry fucking Potter. Draco shook himself off. Why did he even care? Just because they'd had rutted on top of the Quidditch stand didn't mean _anything_. He bit his lip.

If that were true, why had he told Harry that he meant something to him even if the sex didn't. He'd never remotely cared about any of his other lovers. And Potter was his _enemy_ for fucks sake. They were supposed to loathe each other. He wasn't supposed to warn Harry about Umbridge and get him out of trouble. He wasn't supposed to ditch his house-mates, so he could lay across his bed and think about Harry in peace.

He covered his mouth to stifle a humorless chuckle. Peace, ha. Like there was any peace in his life with his father breathing down his neck and The Dark Lord watching his family and his parent's expectations weighing him down and no one caring about _him,_ only ever what he could give them.

He sighed, turning on his side to face away from the doorway. He knew the rest of his dorm-mates would be coming up soon but there was only person he really wanted to see. He pressed his cheek into his pillow, thinking of horribly unruly raven hair and glittering emerald eyes. No one had the right to look so innocently delicious. Draco had no idea how he'd never realized how edible Harry was. And the worst part—almost a crime—was that Harry didn't even seem to realize how he looked under his baggy clothes.

Draco's hand reached down under his pants, grasping himself. He pictured Harry with his emerald eyes fixed on him, eyes glazed and filled with lust and need. An expression he was sure no one else had ever seen. _And no one else ever will,_ he thought.

He started, his hand pausing in its stroking. He shook himself, he was just letting his lust make him irrational. He could understand why he cared who Harry talked to, why he'd rather talk to her instead of Draco. He continued to stroke himself, imagining Harry's hand around him, imaging himself wrapping inside Harry's tight heat and he came with a muffled groan.

He cast a cleaning charm, yanked his blanket up around him, and closed his eyes, content in the knowledge that it was just lust.

* * *

The next few weeks passed in a dull haze. Umbridge continued her examination and as far as Draco could tell, Potter kept his head down. Unfortunately, that also made it hard to get together with Potter. He'd tried to corner Potter several times, but every time he got close Umbridge was mysteriously there.

He was getting frustrated, sexually and otherwise and he was beginning to feel as if Potter was avoiding him.

Not that Draco cared.

"Ooh," Pansy said, clinging to Draco's arm. "Look at that!" She pointed to a pretty necklace that he had to admit would match her eyes nicely.

"Yes," he answered, and her hand tightened on his arm expectantly. "You should get it." She obviously expected him to offer to get it for her. Just as she was expecting him to treat this like a date. He stepped away from her, disentangling his arm from her sweaty grip.

"Well, I _don't_ know…" she started and then continued to prattle on about how she wasn't sure whether she should get the necklace or not. But Draco wasn't listening anymore. His eyes had caught a familiar head of unruly hair being escorted by Weasley and Granger. As if sensing eyes on him, Potter turned and locked eyes with Draco.

His emerald eyes widened and then softened. Draco raised an eyebrow at him and he blushed, dropping him chin and flicking his gaze to look up through his eyelashes. If he was anyone else, Draco would have said Harry was purposely flirting, but he knew Harry didn't have a coy bone in his body.

 _"Draco_ ," Pansy whined and much to his annoyance, wrapped her fingers around his arm again. "Are you even listening?" His eyes flicked to her and away dismissively, but when he looked back at Potter, his eyes were shadowed, and he turned away from Draco and continued to follow his friends without a backward glance.

"Excuse me, Pansy," Draco pulled his arm away from her. "I need to go to the bathroom. I'll be back." She started to say something, but he was already walking away. He knew she'd have words with him for just leaving, but he didn't much care about that rightnow.

It took him a couple minutes to catch sight of the unruly hair again but once he did, it was easy to follow the three until they stopped outside The Hog's Head. He raised an eyebrow but just waited for the three to enter before going inside himself. Potter saw him first, but he just dropped him eyes to the trio's table and played with his butterbeer glass. Weasley saw him next. He jumped up from the table, turning to face Draco with his fists clenched.

"Malfoy," he said, eyes narrowed defensively. "What are you doing here?"

"Someone isn't up to any good," Draco answered, raising an eyebrow at them. Granger visibly paled while Potter just raised his head, locking his glittering emeralds on Draco.

"Why did you follow us, Malfoy?" He asked. Draco tilted his head, ignoring the feeling that bounced around in his chest when Harry talked to him in that voice.

"Curiosity." He shrugged. He saw Weasley open his mouth, but Harry quickly cut him off, his gaze turning speculative, which was a step better than distrustful.

"You can't tell anyone," he said. Draco just raised an eyebrow. "Especially Umbridge."

" _Harry-,_ " Granger started, but Draco interrupted.

"I can keep a secret." Draco smirked, and Harry blushed, dropping his gaze back to the table.

"Harry, we can't just-," Weasley was saying, not that anyone was in the habit of listening to _him_.

"Just let it, Ron," Harry answered. "If he says he won't tell anyone, then he won't." They both stared at him and his blush darkened. Then Granger turned to Draco.

"Don't look at me, I don't know anything," he lied easily, knowing if Harry wanted them to know, he would have told them. Funny, he didn't think The Golden Gryffindor kept anything for his pose. He rounded the booth, sliding around Weasley and into the booth next to Harry.

"Hey, that's my-," he started.

"Not anymore," Draco smirked and then turned his gaze on Harry expectantly.

"I'm _not_ getting you a drink." Harry answered immediately, and Draco pouted at him. Weasley and Granger exchanged a nervous look before they sat down across on the other side of the table.

"So," Draco said, "why _are_ you here?"

"We're starting a defense group." Harry told the table, which must have asked the same question. Not that Draco would know because he didn't speak wood. Draco scowled but didn't say anything about Harry's lack of manners.

"And that's bad?" Draco frowned. "I don't-."

"We're going under Umbridge's nose to learn spells the Ministry wouldn't approve of." Harry clarified.

" _Harry_." Granger hissed. Draco ignored her.

"Ah," Draco's eyes glittered. "Very Slytherin of you, Harry." Harry's eyes flicked up from the table, catching Draco's gaze with some surprise.

"We're nothing like you, you little cunt," Weasley snapped. Harry ignored him, green eyes locked on Draco

"You approve?"

"Of course," Draco answered, just as softly. "This is better than uselessly banging your head against a wall as you _were_ doing." Harry blinked and then smiled slowly. He was different when he smiled, his eyes were just that little bit brighter. Less haunted.

"I don't know if that's a complement or not, Draco." He said finally. Weasley choked, eyes flicking between them with something close to disbelief. He opened his mouth to say something that was probably horribly profound but the door to The Hog's Head opened before he could.

There was an inrush of people, most of them Gryffindor's though there were a few Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. Draco could pick out Thomas, Longbottom, the Patil twins—his lip curled—Chang, the three other Weasley's, Lee Jordon, and an assortment of other people. Most of their eyes widened at the sight of Draco sitting not even a foot away from Harry Potter but no one really said anything.

"A couple of people?" Harry hissed at Granger as Twin Weasley 1 ordered butterbeers for everyone.

"Hush, Potter," Draco said before Granger could speak.

"But-."

"Hush, this can only be good." Draco cast him an impatient look. Harry's mouth snapped shut but his lips did twist with annoyance. Granger and Weasley's eyes bulged as they watched this exchange.

Eventually, the rest of the group settled around them in twos and threes. Chang pursed her lips, looking mistrustfully at Draco. He sneered at her, moving so his thigh was touching Harry's. Harry's eyes flicked to Draco then Chang, blushed and fixed his gaze on the table. Draco wondered belated what it was telling him _now._

"Er-," Granger started

"What is _he_ doing there?" Twin Weasley 2 asked, jerking his chin at Draco.

"What are _you_ doing here, Weasley?" Draco returned with a sneer.

"You can trust him," Harry said. All eyes turned back to him, some speculative, some outraged, others just confused. Harry gave Granger a meaningful look.

"Right," she said. "Well, um. We're here to learn defense. And not what Umbridge has been teaching but real spells and how to use them. I want to know how to defend myself because…. Because," She took a deep breath as if steeling herself. "because Lord Voldemort's back." Draco flinched, his hands curling into fists in his lap. Harry's eyes flicked over to him, but Draco just turned his face away.

"Where's the proof You-Know-Who's back?" A blond boy asked. Draco thought his name was Zacharias Smith, though he wasn't entirely sure. Besides, anyone who asked such a stupid question didn't deserve for Draco to be sure of their name.

Draco immediately covered his mouth to conceal a snort. Everyone's eyes shifted again, this time to Draco. He felt uneasiness squeeze the pit of his stomach, but he shoved it down. Malfoy's were never nervous. His forefinger tapped against his thigh in a rhythmic pattern while he eyed Smith scornfully.

"Really, have _you_ been living under a rock the past year," Draco allowed himself one more undignified snort. "I mean, I know _the Profit_ isn't always reliable but even you must have noticed the mass breakout at Azkaban." He raised an eyebrow as Smith turned red with a mixture of embarrassment and indignation. "The random murders? Or maybe you're as stupid as you look, and you believe the Ministry at their word that _nothing_ suspicious is going on?"

"I just think-," he started angrily.

"Pardon me if I'm mistaken," Draco interrupted, turning his gaze on Harry casually. "But is this meeting _supposed_ to be a debate about whether or not The Dark Lord has returned or not?" Harry's lips twitched as he met Draco's eyes.

"It's not." Harry answered.

"Well, then," he turned back to Smith. "I think you'll find that no one particularly cares _what_ you think."

"That goes for anyone else," Harry added, his hand falling on Draco's thigh and squeezing as he eyed the group. "If that's what you're here for, you can clear out." Harry's emerald eyes flicked to Draco and they locked gazes for just a second. The burst of want that ran through Draco took him by surprise. He _liked_ this confident, collected version of Harry. He liked this version that wasn'tinsulting Draco.

"Is it true," asked a new girl, drawing Harry's gaze away from Draco, "that you can produce a Patronus?" Draco sat back as the group began to talk about Harry's achievements while he grew more and more uncomfortable looking. Draco inspected his fingernails, for the most part not taking part in the conversation until-

"The point is, are we all agreed we want to take lessons from Harry?" Granger asked the group. Draco sat up straight, looking at Harry in surprise.

" _You're_ going to be teaching it?" Draco asked quietly. The rest of the group ignored them, now talking about where they should meet and how often.

"Yes…" Harry answered, dropping his eyes to the table. Then he seemed to realize what he was doing and raised them to look at Draco defiantly. "What about it?"

"I'm just surprised." Draco's hand twitched, wanting so badly to reach out and brush the fringe out of Harry's face. "You'll do a good job, Harry." He blinked, blushed, and dropped his eyes again. Draco's hand reached out before he knew what he was doing, lifting Harry's chin with two fingers under his jaw. "Confidence looks good on you, lover." Harry's blush deepened. Draco's eyes dropped to Harry's lips; he wanted-

He dropped his hand and sat back in the seat, trying to tune back into the conversation. What was _wrong_ with him? Harry blinked once but just turned his attention back to the conversation.

Granger was now having everyone sign a piece of parchment. Smith put up a slight argument but eventually signed. Then she turned to Draco, who held his hand out with a bored expression. He signed with a flourish and then pushed the parchment toward Harry, who signed and then Weasley and finally Granger. There was an awkward moment were everyone just kind of looked at each other.

"Well, time's ticking," Twin Weasley 1 said. And everyone left in twos and threes. Draco thought Chang took an absurdly long time getting her bag together, using her hair to cover her face. _Finally,_ she stood to leave, waving at Harry from the doorway. Draco sneered at her, and she dropped her hand.

"Well, that was interesting," Granger said, casting Draco a speculative look. He curled his lip, ready to insult her and her bloodline and her hair, but Harry's hand on his thigh had turned dangerously tight and he stopped himself.

"Please don't insult my friends." He said quietly, turning his bright green eyes to Draco. Draco pursed his lips but said nothing. "Hermione, Ron, could you give us a minute?" Weasley opened his mouth to object but Granger get there first.

"Are you sure, Harry?" She asked. Draco started to say something, but Harry squeezed his leg again and he winced. He wondered if he was going to have bruises later on.

"Yes, Hermione." She nodded, waving Weasley out before her.

"Malfoy-," he started but Draco wasn't about to let him control the conversation.

"Why have you been avoiding me?" Draco interrupted.

"I haven't-," Harry said immediately though why Harry thought Draco couldn't tell a lie when he heard one, he had no idea.

"You have." Draco interrupted. "Look, Harry, if you don't want this anymore than just tell me."

"No!" Harry's emerald eyes went wide. "No, that's not it at all."

"Then what _is_ it?"

"I just-," he sighed. "I don't really know what we are, Draco."

"What's to know?" Draco scowled. "I want you-."

"But not enough to actually date me." Harry snapped, and Draco's scowl deepened.

"Is that what this is about? You want to be my boyfriend?"

"No, I-," Harry's eyes widened in surprise. _of course not,_ Draco thought bitterness seeping into him.

Not that he cared.

"No, I suppose you want Chang for that, yeah?" He sneered at Potter, whose eyes widened even further. "Look, Potter," Potter seemed to flinch at the use of his surname, but Draco shoved that from his mind. Potter was obviously telling him to back off, so Draco would oblige. "I'll be here whenever you feel like a quick shag. Otherwise, I'll stay out of your personal business as much as I can, deal?"

"That's not-," Potter started, his hand slid up Draco thigh, but this time Draco scooted his chair away. He didn't want Potter touching him. He didn't want that feeling of release that only Potter gave him. Not right now.

"See you around." Draco stood abruptly and started walking toward the door.

"Draco!" Harry called, and he hesitated, his hand trembling on the door, his heart in his throat. Then he snatched the handle and stormed into the cold. He wiped his eyes to get rid of the moisture. His damn allergies were acting up again.

He couldn't believe that Potter had basically rejected him. _Him_. Draco Malfoy. His eyes burned; there was _obviously_ something in the air. Potter was an idiot. Draco was perfect, and Potter was stupid for choosing to pass up on Draco's amazingness. Draco covered his mouth to stifle the hiccup; it _had_ been a while since he'd had water. He was sure it was just a sugar imbalance.

He was _not_ hurt that Harry didn't want him.

It wasn't even that Potter didn't want him, it was just that he didn't want to _date_ him. As if the only thing Draco was good for was sex. Draco bit his lip as pain laced through his chest again. _Ouch._

Why was he even still thinking about this? Wasn't this a good thing? Hadn't Draco already decided there was nothing between them. So, why was he upse—thinking about whether or not Harry liked him or not? Was he that narcissistic that he needed everyone to have a crush on him, even if he didn't care about them?

But he _hated_ how Pansy fawned over him. He frowned. Well, there was really only one solution. He would just have to stay away from Potter. He didn't care about Potter, and Potter didn't care about him. Because when Draco got into moods like this, he did stupid things like disrupting Gryffindor Quidditch practices and then-

He sighed, veering into a nearby shop to buy himself something nice. He was sure that would make him forget all about Potter.

* * *

The next morning saw Draco summoned to Umbridge's office, sitting uncomfortable in front of her desk and trying not to squirm. She was fiddling with her teapot, pouring tea into two cups and Draco was trying to think of a polite way to say no without making her suspicious.

If he'd learned one thing from his father, it was to never accept drinks when you couldn't see what potions someone had poured in them.

"Mr. Malfoy," she said companionably. "How was your trip to Hogsmeade yesterday?"

"It was good, Professor."

"Very good," she answered. "Do you take sugar in your tea?"

"Oh, Professor, I really couldn't."

"Nonsense," she said. "Now, sugar or no?"

"No, thank you." He answered. She hummed before coming back over and setting the tea in front of him. He murmured a thank you, picking up the teacup and lifting it to his lips. He smelled it furtively and sure enough there was the unique scent of Veritaserum mixed in with the tea.

He pressed the tea to his lips and tipped it back, making sure none of the liquid got into his mouth. Umbridge watched him with a satisfied expression as Draco made a show of swallowing and then making his face blank as if the Veritaserum was affecting him.

"Are you in a relationship with Harry Potter?" Umbridge asked immediately, leaning forward eagerly.

"No," Draco answered, his voice was as soft and expressionless as someone under Veritaserum's would be. Umbridge frowned, looking disappointed.

"Were you at The Hog's Head yesterday with him?" Draco made an effort not to frown, so that's what this was about. She must have had some spy in The Hog's Head or something. Harry really should have known better than to meet there.

"Yes."

"So, you're aware they're starting a group to undermine me?" She asked. He hesitated.

He was sure Granger would be smart enough to put some kind of jinx on the paper they all signed to make sure none of them got away with telling any of their secrets but on the other hand, Umbridge already _knew_ he knew about the group. He couldn't lie but he couldn't directly tell the truth.

"I'm aware of the trouble Potter could cause." Draco answered quietly. Umbridge nodded, seeming satisfied.

"Then why join this group?"

"I was under the impression I could spy on them and report back to the Ministry."

"Why would you want to turn in your classmates?" Umbridge frowned, leaning her pudgy face forward. Draco resisted the temptation to lean away from her, disgust boiling in his belly.

"I hate Harry Potter." Draco lied again. "I want nothing more than to see him expelled or something of the like."

"Very good, Mr. Malfoy, Very good," she said, smiling slowly at him. _I need to find some way to warn Harry,_ He thought while Umbridge's smile steady widened.

And then he blinked. Maybe Potter was rubbing off on him more than he wanted to admit, Draco _never_ would have gotten himself into this kind of situation on his own. He was obedient and even-tempered and-

 _If any of that was true, you wouldn't be in this situation in the first place,_ a little voice that sounded suspiciously like Potter murmured in the back of his head. _Admit it, you_ like _the way it feels to rebel._ Draco sighed internally and wondered what the bloody hell he'd gotten himself into.


	5. Part 1: Chapter 5

**_Warning: Very beginning high inquisition order is straight from the book._**

 **Chapter 5- And is it a Lie He Tells**

 **By Order of**

 **The High Inquisitor of Hogwarts:**

 **All student Organizations, Societies, Teams, Groups, and clubs are henceforth disbanded.**

 **An Organization, Society, Team, Group, or Club is hereby defined as a regular meeting of three or more students.**

 **Permission to re-form may be sought from the High Inquisitor (Professor Umbridge).**

 **No student Organization, Society, Teams, Group, or Club may exist without the knowledge and approval of the High Inquisitor.**

 **Any student found to have formed, or belong to, an Organization, Society, Team, Group or Club that has not been approved by the High Inquisitor will be expelled.**

 _The above is in accordance with Educational Decree Number Twenty-four._

 **Signed:**

 _Dolores Jane Umbridge_

 **High Inquisitor**

"I knew we shouldn't have trusted him!" Ron was almost fuming at the mouth which would have been funny except for the sign that they were currently staring at. Harry looked from him to the sign hanging on the wall and back, trying to understand what Ron was talking about.

"Ron-," Harry tried but Ron was already stomping away, making his way toward the common room entrance. "Where are you going?" Harry scrambled after him, slipping out of the portrait behind Ron and struggling to keep up with the other boy's furious pace.

"I'm going to find Malfoy." Ron answered, and Harry blinked. Draco?

"Ron-."

"Don't defend him, Harry. _Someone_ told Umbridge and I'm just as inclined to believe it was Malfoy than anyone else," Ron said. He didn't even stop walking, just continued stomping along the corridor, glaring at anyone who dared look their war.

Harry opened his mouth and then closed it again. Malfoy _had_ been mad when he left The Hog's Head yesterday. But Harry hadn't thought he'd been _that_ mad. That just didn't seem like something Draco would do. Draco was a lot of things, a sell out and a tattletale just didn't seem like one of them.

"I don't think-," Harry tried again.

"Look, I saw the way you two were yesterday," Ron made a face and finally stopped walking. He turned to face Harry, speaking with surprising lucidity considering how intent he was to hunt Malfoy down. "He's using you. You were so focused on Malfoy, on Malfoy's approval, on _Malfoy's presence_ ," Ron's lips twist as if he was disgusted by the very idea, "but he obviously didn't give a damn about you, too bloody busy checking his nails." Harry flinched, and Ron let out a gusty breath, turning away from him. "I don't know what happened between you but frankly it makes me a little sick. Now," Ron started to walk away from him. "Are you coming or what?"

Harry drifted after him, feeling like he was in a daze of hurt and disappointment all locked up in his confusion. He didn't know why he should feel confused, he already knew his feeling were stronger than Malfoy's. That it was only sex to Draco. But Malfoy himself had told Harry that that didn't mean he _didn't_ care about him. And hadn't he done enough to prove that Harry wasn't worthless to him.

But then, what if it had all been some kind of lie? Some way to manipulate and laugh at The Boy Who Lived. For Malfoy to get even with him. What did he even really know about Malfoy anyway, except that he apparently found Harry attractive? Besides, even Harry had to admit the sign posted on the common room wall made everything rather suspicious.

Ron found Malfoy walking briskly toward the Great Hall, but from the wrong direction of the Slytherin commons. He was coming from the direction of the Defense Against the Dark Arts Room, which apparently equaled guilty to Ron if the way he grasped Malfoy by the front of his robes and slammed him into the wall was anything to go by. Draco's eyes widened in shock and he shrugged against Ron's grip, crying out as he was slammed against the wall.

"Ron!" Harry cried, lunging forward to pull Ron away.

"You bloody ferret!" Ron yelled as Harry yanked Ron off and away. "I _knew_ we couldn't trust you."

"Exactly," Malfoy said. He shoved off the wall and straightened his robes, his voice cold and hard as he looked over them. "What is it you're accusing me of?"

"Don't act innocent!" Ron cried, fumbling for his wand. Harry immediately yanked it from his grasp. Ron gave him a betrayed look but just turned back to Malfoy. "We _know_ you told Umbridge about our meeting yesterday." Draco's face went pale but when he spoke, his voice was as enigmatic as ever.

"I see," Draco answered, disdain dripping from his voice. "And exactly _what_ lead you to this fascinating development?"

"Like you haven't seen the signs." Ron bellowed, struggling against Harry's hold of his robes again. "You probably helped to make them!"

"Really," Draco cocked an eyebrow, looking unimpressed. "There are signs that say, 'Draco Malfoy is a traitor.' I simply _must_ find them." Ron's face turned as red as his hair, and he attempted to lunge forward, but Harry caught him and shoved him back. Malfoy just sneered, for all the world looking unaffected and scornful. But Harry saw how Draco pressed his back against the wall, his finger tapping furiously against his leg and knew how affected he really was.

"They're signs that state all groups have to be disbanded until given express permission by Umbridge to reform." Harry told him, his voice quiet.

"I see," Draco repeated. "And naturally this means _I_ am to blame." A beat and then Malfoy spoke again, softer though as scornful. "I'm disappointed, I thought at the very least _you_ were better than that, Potter." Harry _felt_ Draco sneer over his name, and he ducked his head to hide the shame on his face.

"Hey," Ron cried. "Don't try to manipulate-."

"Harry! Ron!" Hermione's voice interrupted him. They turned to see her come running up to them, her hair flying behind her. "He didn't do it. He didn't tell."

"But-," Ron started.

"I put a jinx on the paper we all signed." She panted. "If he had run off to Umbridge, we'd all know." Ron blinked at her while Harry kept his eyes firmly fixed on the ground. Draco _hadn't_ betrayed his trust. He snuck a glance up at Draco, but he was all icy fury. Harry had betrayed Draco's though. He dropped his eyes again.

"But the signs…?" Ron said slowly as if trying to wrap his mind around this new information.

"Yes, well," Malfoy interrupted, throwing Ron a sneer. "When Umbridge summoned me to her office this morning to interrogate me with a mixture of sweet-talk, tea, and Veritaserum, she did seem to know all about your little meeting."

"She tried to use Veritaserum on you?" Hermione asked, mouth agape.

"Yes, and not only did she believe the lie I fed her, but she now trusts me completely." Harry felt Draco's eyes turn to him. Harry raised his gaze and met Draco's icy silver stare. Flinching, he looked away again. "Now, if you'll excuse me. Unlike the three of you, I _do_ have better things to be doing. Let me know when-."

"Harry!" This time it was Neville's voice that interrupted them. Draco cast a distasteful look down the hallway but watched as Neville approached. As he drew closer, Harry saw that he was cradling a white bundle in his arms as if it was precious or wounded. "Harry," he said, panting, "the mail came and-."

"Hedwig?" Harry asked. The bundle Neville had was, in fact Harry's owl, Hedwig. And not only that but she was obviously wounded. "Neville, what happened?" He moved to take Hedwig and she hopped gratefully onto his waiting wrist, fluffing her ruffled feathers. He noticed she was holding one of her wings oddly and hoped it wasn't broken.

"We don't know," Neville answered, biting his lip nervously. "She just turned up like that. I came looking for you as soon as I saw her."

"She has a note for you, Potter," Draco said, leaning forward. He had that look on his face, that look of focus and silvery-grey spark that sent a pang of want through Harry. Draco's lean fingers snatched the note from Hedwig's leg.

"Hey!" Ron said, but Draco just ignored him, eyebrows raising as he read Harry's mail. His gaze flicked up to Harry with an enigmatic look, and Harry immediately snatched the letter from his grip.

 _11:00, you know where._

 _-Snuffles_

"Mind telling me who Snuffles is, Potter?" Draco asked, eyes flashing dangerously.

"Snuffles?!" Hermione said. "Harry, why is si-," her eyes flicked to Draco, whose eyes narrowed dangerously far. "Why is _he_ writing you?"

"I don't know." Harry answered. He passed her the note, which she promptly showed Ron.

" _He_ ," Draco said, putting an absurd amount of emphasis on the word. "Just how many lovers do you have, Potter? Enough to go accusing each one of betrayal so they have to justify themselves to you while you run along to another?"

"l-lo-lovers?" Neville said. Hermione and Ron looked just as thrown, eyes wide and full of shock and confusion. He figured they were all trying to decide whether Draco was just being a twat or if he was serious.

Harry glared over at Malfoy and received a narrowed silvery look of challenge. He'd had done it on purpose.

Harry saw red. He was angry at himself for not trusting Draco before. He was angry at Ron and Hermione for being surprised. He was angry at Draco for _trying_ to hurt and embarrass him. For succeeding even when he _wasn't_ trying. He _wanted_ to hurt Draco in return. To make him understand how Harry felt.

"How many do _you_ have, _Draco?"_ He snapped out, his fingers closing into fists. "Enough to make _daddy_ proud of your conquests?" Draco's eyes widened, hurt to clear in his eyes Harry almost clung to him and apologize. He almost clung to Draco and said he hadn't meant it.

There was a moment of silence where no one moved, and Draco stared at him. And the hurt swept off Draco's face and into the trash, leaving behind a mask as cold and blank as Harry had ever seen. He wondered how he had ever managed to penetrate it in the first place.

Standing there, waiting for Draco's next words, Harry didn't think he had ever felt so cold.

"Fuck you, Harry," he said, voice low and cold, and then he was gone, back stiff and heel clicking against the stone ground.

* * *

The rest of the day was terrible. Draco didn't look at him once.

He'd dropped Hedwig off with Professor Grubbly-Plank and received an ominous warning from McGonagall about the castle's communication being watched. By the time, he found Hermione and Ron, however, he was too caught up in thoughts about Malfoy to remember what exactly she had said. He was then assigned an additional essay from Snape because he simply _couldn't_ focus on the potion he was supposed to be brewing. Honestly, was it really his fault that his potion had exploded all over himself and Malfoy. Malfoy had certainly believed it had been and Snape had seemed inclined to agree. And somehow Malfoy managed to do all his yelling and accusing and indignant pointing while keeping his eyes firmly _away_ from Harry. Grumbling, Harry entered the common room, where he swiftly learned from Angelina that the Gryffindor Quidditch team was disbanded until further notice.

And he still had to look forward to the conversation with Sirius, who was in fact Snuffles. Harry snorted, the very _idea_ that Snuffles was a lover was absurd. Why would _anyone_ really be interested in Harry? Harry blushed at he thought of Draco licking his cock and telling him he was beautiful.

He didn't understand why Draco was acting like a jilted lover. Draco himself had been the one to insist there would be no exclusivity between them, much less jealously. So, why was he suddenly acting like he wanted to change his mind? And not just with 'Snuffles' but with Cho too. The whole scene he had caused in The Hog's Head with Cho had screamed jealous lover, but Draco couldn't possibly _be_ that. Could he?

It seemed too good to be true.

Harry cast a mournful look at the fireplace, wishing Sirius wouldn't show up. He had a feeling this conversation was going to go terribly. He had known as soon as he'd seen the note what Sirius had meant, after all, he'd talked to Harry through the Floo last year. Suddenly, Sirius' messy dark head was sitting inside the fire.

"Hello," Sirius said breezily, his eyes locking on Harry with a wary intensity that made him want to sigh.

"Hello," Hermione and Ron said. Harry stayed silent, mentally preparing himself for the tongue lashing his godfather was going to give him for associating with the likes of Draco Malfoy.

"How are you?"

"Not good." Harry answered and watched for Sirius' reaction.

"Really?" Sirius' eyebrow rose, "starting secret defense groups with known Death Eater's sons not exciting enough for you?" Harry flinched but didn't look away.

"I take it you knew the same way Umbridge did." He said.

"And how does she know?" Sirius' eyebrow rose further.

"We don't know, Draco said-."

" _Draco,_ hmm?"

"He's _been_ like this." Ron said, his face turning bright red. "We think he's been-."

" _Ron_ ," Hermione interrupted. "It's none of our business what Harry does in his free time."

"It is if it puts him in danger." Sirius said.

"Draco wouldn't hurt me." Harry muttered darkly.

"Oh yeah?" Ron snapped. "He seemed pretty inclined when we were talking this morning."

"You don't know what you're talking about," Harry answered, cheeks flushing. It was true, Draco had hurt him, had purposely embarrassed him in front of his friends and then the potions classroom. But the thing Ron didn't understand was that Harry had hurt Draco worse. Oh, he didn't understand _why_ Draco had such a sore spot for his father, but he did. And Harry had used it.

Besides, that wasn't the kind of hurt they were talking about.

"Harry," Sirius said slowly, in the kind of voice you might use on an injured animal. "Have you considered the possibility that he's only using you." Harry's jaw clamped. "Just because he hasn't betrayed you yet doesn't mean he's not waiting for a time when it's the most convenient for him. Harry, you need to consider-."

"I don't need to do anything," Harry snapped. Sirius opened his mouth to say something else but then closed it again with a snap. His face went pale and when Harry blinked, his head was gone from the flames. In its place was a hand reaching around in the flames.

"Holy Merlin." Ron cried. They scrambled away from the fire and away from Umbridge's hand groping around in it.


	6. Part 1: Chapter 6

**_Warnings: The song is straight from the book_**

Chapter 6- And Why Can't You Understand

Draco rarely allowed himself to become annoyed to the point of doing something stupid. Well, except that this very thing had happened to him where Harry Potter was concerned _too_ many times. First, He'd let Potter annoy him to the point that he'd actually given him a blow job in the middle of a corridor. Then he had allowed himself to become annoyed that Harry had almost ditched their meeting in favor of talking to Chang. Like he cared; Potter could talk to whoever he wanted. And that had ended with them humping in broad daylight in the Quidditch stands. It was really a wonder no one had seen them yet.

Then, Draco Malfoy, heir to the Malfoy line, had had to sit in Umbridge's muggy office and listen to how she had almost caught Draco's—sort of, almost—lover fire calling someone he may or may not be involved with. Seriously, if he was already with someone, he shouldn't act so attached to Draco.

 _You're the one acting attached._ Draco's little voice whispered. He sighed, that was another thing that hadn't happened to him until Potter had showed up. He'd developed a _conscience_.

Draco shivered at _that_ terrifying idea.

And now he felt like doing something stupid again. The same way he had when he'd pinned Potter down on top of the stands. He wanted to punish Harry for paying attention to someone who wasn't him. Whether it was Chang or that Snuffles bloke. He sighed, he sounded like a jealous boyfriend. Which was something he absolutely wasn't.

"Malfoy," His voice made Draco's head snap up and meet Potter's eyes. He flicked his eyes away, seriously, it wasn't fair for anyone to look _that_ delectable without even trying.

"Potter," Draco scowled and side-stepped waiting for him to go around. Harry chewed his lip—in that horribly attractive way that made Draco want to take the offending lip between his teeth and bite it for him—as if he was trying to decide something before stepping forward.

"I was talking to Hermione this morning-."

"Don't you have somewhere to be," Draco interrupted. He really didn't need another person to be jeal- concerned about.

"Malfoy-," Harry winced.

"Just leave me alone, Potter," he snapped, starting to step away. "I have better things to do."

"Draco, please, I'm-," Harry's hand closed around Draco's elbow. Before Draco even realized what he was doing, he'd turned them both around and slammed Harry into the wall. Harry cut off with a pained gasp and wide green eyes. They stared at each other, chests pressed together and eyes wide. Draco could _feel_ Harry's heartbeat matching his own through the material of their shirts and robes. Harry's bright green eyes were wide and open, his lips slightly parted, begging to be-

Footsteps sounded down the corridor and Draco snapped away from Harry, panting in a way that was hardly appropriate. Harry glanced in the direction of the footsteps and then grabbed Draco by his wrist and dragged him across the hallway and into an abandon classroom, slamming the door behind them.

"Harry," Draco said, his voice low with warning. He tried to step away; he didn't know what he was doing. He had stepping into this thinking it would be easy to keep his emotion out of it, but he had been wrong. And now Harry was standing in front of him, looking at him with wide green eyes and opening his mouth for something that Draco just knew he wasn't ready to give.

"Draco, I-," and suddenly Harry cried out, his hands coming up to clasp his down onto his forehead.

"Harry," Draco pulled away, his hands snapping down on Harry's shoulders and resisting the temptation to shake. "Harry, what's wrong?"

It seemed like it lasted forever; Harry curled into himself, shaking and crying out and Draco could do nothing stand there and stare. Eventually, it stopped. Harry's body gradually relaxing as he pulled his hands away from his face, bringing his eyes up to Draco's.

"What happened?" Draco asked.

"My scar…"

"Is that… normal?"

"No, I…" Harry hesitated. "It hurt because…. He's… angry."

"He-," Draco blinked. "What do you mean?"

"He wants something done, and it's not happening fast enough." He covered his eyes with the palms of his hands, wincing as he pressed down.

"Harry," Draco grabbed his wrists, pulling his hands away. "Have you told anyone about this?"

"I…" Harry hesitated, and Draco squeezed his wrist. "I told Dumbledore about it last year." Harry answered eventually.

"And…?"

"It was no big deal." He tried to pull his hands away, but Draco kept his grip firm. "I'm just reading his mood or whatever and-."

"This is _not_ no big deal, Harry," Draco said. He felt like shaking Harry until he saw sense. How could he not know how much danger he was in? Draco knew, and he was sure he barely understood what was going through Harry's mind. "If you can reach into the Dark Lord's mind then he can reach into yours. That's the way Legilimency works." He hesitated. "Have you been having weird dreams?" The way Harry froze told it all, and Draco suddenly felt like screaming. "You have to close your mind, Harry, this is dangerous."

"I'm fine." Harry answered.

"You're not fine," Draco said, hands tightening to a painful degree around Harry's wrists. "Harry, listen to me-."

"Malfoy," Harry answered, yanking his hands away and this time Draco couldn't keep his grip. "I have to get to Quidditch, I'm already late." Then he practically ran from the classroom. Draco let him go, his hands drop into his lap. _That'll teach you to try to_ help _someone,_ the voice that sounded suspiciously like his father scolded him. _You'll_ always _get burned._

* * *

Draco was studying alone in the library when Granger ambushed him. He heard her approaching, flicked his eyes up to see her frizzy hair, sighed, and then looked down again.

"Malfoy," she said, stopping in front of his table.

"Granger," he answered, not bothering to look up from his potions essay. "Missing a couple appendages there, are we?"

"Oh, shut it, Malfoy." She said. "You know Ron, Harry, and I aren't attached at the hip."

"And how would I know that?"

"Whatever," she said. "Harry just wanted me to tell you we have a place to practice for the DA."

"How fascinating," Draco answered. "Run along to Potter and tell him I am no longer interested." Instead of leaving, Granger stepped closer and slipped into the seat across from him. "That seat's taken." He said, not that he had any hope that she would listen.

"You know, Ron and sir- _Snuffles,_ " Draco's lips tightened, "both think you're using Harry."

"Is this going somewhere?" Draco sighed heavily, closing his book with a snap.

"Harry won't believe them. He says you won't hurt him, that he can trust you. I've no idea what you've done to convince him but Harry's usually a pretty good judge of character." Draco snorted, covering his mouth from the undignified response. Granger just raised an eyebrow and continued. "I don't know why you two are fighting but-."

"Who says we're fighting?"

"But," she continued, ignoring him."You should know that Harry cares about you for whatever reason."

"And if don't care about him?"

"That wasn't the impression I got when you followed us to The Hog's Head." Granger answered, "but hey, maybe Ron is right for once in his life." Draco rolled his eyes and Granger's lips twitched. "Now, come on." She stood, gesturing Draco to follow her. He did, but only because he was curious about this meeting place Potter had found. Besides, he needed to keep up his spying appearances for Umbridge.

He sighed and packed his bags as slowly as he could. He took pleasure in the way Granger cast him impatient looks and tried to stop herself from tapping her foot. Eventually, they started walking out of the library and down the corridors. Granger led him up the stairs, stopping at the 7th floor and leading him down an ill-used corridor.

Draco stopped when he saw a door that hadn't been there last time he'd been here. Granger knocked on the door without hesitation and it opened to reveal Harry. His eyes slid past Hermione to lock with Draco's before he blushed and turned abruptly.

"Come in," he said, his back to them. "You're the last ones."

"What _is_ this place?" Draco asked. The room around them was large, filled with dark detectors, practice dummies, and bookshelves lining the walls. The rest of the group was already there, milling around and looking impatient. Draco supposed he had taken a long time.

"Um," Harry rubbed the back of his neck, looking uncomfortable. "It's called the room of requirement. It'll change itself to be anything you want." His eyes flicked up to Draco, looking up at him through his eyelashes.

"And you learned about it how?"

"Um." Harry shifted, becoming even more uncomfortable, "Dobby." Draco coughed.

"I'm sorry, _my_ old house elf Dobby? The one you freed?"

"Yeah, he started working at Hogwarts. Dumbledore is paying him." Harry said. Draco blinked and decided it was best to just not comment. "So, anyway," Harry cleared his throat. "I was thinking, the first thing we should do is _expelliarmus._ " Smith opened his mouth to say something, but Draco's glare silenced him. Harry ordered them all into pairs, leaving Neville and Draco standing in the middle of the room. Draco's upper lip curled, but Harry spoke before he could.

"Let me see, Neville, Malfoy." Harry opened his mouth to presumably start counting but Draco wasn't waiting for that.

" _Expelliarmus._ " Draco flicked his wand, sending Longbottom's spinning out of his hand and into Draco's outstretched one. Harry looked surprised for a moment and then scowled over at him.

"You could at least give him a chance, Draco."

"Why don't you go bother someone else, Potter?" Draco answered, curling his lips into a sneer. Harry sighed but left, letting Draco turn back to Longbottom. "Well, why are you standing there?" He tossed Longbottom's wand back to him, rolling his eyes when he fumbled it. "Give it a go." Longbottom raised his wand, his hand shaking. "I'm _not_ going to bite you," Draco snapped.

" _Expelliarmus._ " Longbottom said. Draco's wand wiggled in his hand and then went still.

"You have to mean it, Longbottom. Seriously, I'm not going to _crucio_ you for disarming me." Longbottom bit his lip and tried again. This time, his own wand went flying out of his hand. Draco sighed, this was going to be a long lesson.

He snuck a glance around to room, looking for Harry. Maybe he would straighten Longbottom out because it certainly wasn't Draco's job. His eyes narrowed when he saw him locked in animated conversation with Chang. She laughed, flipping her hair behind her flirtatiously. Draco clenched his teeth, stopping himself from marching over there and punching the bint in the nose and telling her, 'mine.'

Draco's wand went flying out of his hand, landing _somewhere_ in the room. He turned his eyes on Longbottom, glaring. Longbottom flinched from his stare, his enthusiasm leaking out. Draco felt like face palming, you just couldn't _win_ with these people.

" _Accio_." He called, watching as his wand flew back into his hand. A few people watched him with amazed expressions, but he paid them no mind, keeping his attention on Harry, who kept his attention on Chang. He didn't even seem to notice that Draco was staring at him. Which in itself was an insult; Draco was far too important to be unnoticeable.

"Hey, Harry," Hermione called. The entire room turned to her, but Granger's eyes were firmly locked on Draco. Her head was tilted to the side, watching him with a curious look in her eyes. He sneered, and she turned her gaze to Harry. "have you checked the time?"

Harry immediately began to bustle around, checking a piece of parchment that looked suspiciously like a map and then sending people out in threes and fours. Eventually, it was only Draco, Granger, Weasley, and Harry left alone in the room.

"Ron and I will go ahead, Harry." Granger said.

"What?" Weasley answered, "But-." Granger just grabbed him by the arm and dragged him from the room. Harry glanced at him, blushed and then looked away.

"You're welcome to leave," Draco said, checking his nails carelessly.

"I don't-," Harry blinked.

"If you don't want to be here-."

"Why wouldn't I want to be here?" Harry scowled, the blush on his face fading to be replaced by an angry drawl of his eyebrows.

"Well, it seems like you always have somewhere better to be."

"Me?!"

"Yes, _you_!" Draco snapped. "You ditched me for Chang, for whoever the fuck _snuffles_ is, for Quidditch—like I didn't see right through that."

"What are you _talking_ about, Malfoy?" Harry asked, his green eyes flashing dangerously behind his glasses.

"You want me to believe you had Quidditch practice at that exact moment when you needed an excuse and had _no_ Quidditch gear on?"

"Believe whatever you want, Malfoy. I don't have to explain myself to you."

"Oh, _obviously_." Draco answered, rolling his eyes scornfully. "After all, who would want _Draco Malfoy_ when they could have Cho Chang."

"What is wrong with you?" Harry snapped, his fists clenching, "You were the one who told me it didn't mean anything." Draco opened his mouth, and then closed it again. He wanted to yell at Harry, to tell him off, but Harry was right. He didn't have a real reason. He swallow heavily, looking away.

"That was before…" He trailed off. He didn't even know what he was saying. Before _what?_ He sounded like an absolute idiot.

"Before _what?"_ Harry asked, so coldly his voice was unrecognizable. "Before you got bored of Pansy and decided you needed a better arm decoration?" Draco stared at him. Pansy? He thought Draco was shagging Pansy?

Draco took a step back, turning away from Harry. He had thought he was shagging someone else the entire time and he hadn't cared. Not one jealous word or look. He guessed that answered his question about how Harry really felt about him if anything did.

"Well," Draco smiled thinly, "I think I'd rather be anywhere else."

"Wait!" Harry stepped forward. "Draco, I didn't mean-."

"Really, Potter." Draco called behind him, already opening the door. "It's no big deal. I should never have taken up so much of your time."

Draco returned to his dorm with eyes stinging and his chest tight. Though this time he couldn't find any way to properly blame it on allergies. He _knew_ he wanted to cry because of Potter. Like he was a little girl with a crush. He opened the Slytherin dorm, hoping everyone would just leave him alone.

"Draco, darling," Pansy called. He sighed, of course, he was never so lucky. "Why were you out so late?"

"I'm a busy person, Pansy." He answered, turning back to his dorm.

"Oh, Draco, wait." She said, he hesitated just to be polite. "You know the first Quidditch match is coming up soon."

"So?"

"Well, I thought maybe you'd want some way to torment Potter and his Weasel."

* * *

The next couple weeks passed slowly for Draco. He avoided looking at Potter, avoided him in classes, avoided him in the halls, and didn't go to the DA meetings. Though that didn't stop Granger from slipping him a galleon that the group was using to communicate with.

He was dreading the coming Quidditch match. As much as he wanted to hurt Potter for hurting him, even he didn't want to go this far. He also knew once Pansy started something, she was going to finish it. Better not to cross her. Pansy had smirked at him, pinning the badge to his chest. 'Weasley is our King,' she'd mouthed.

He'd skipped breakfast. He already knew today was going to be bad, no need to add insult to injury. He strapped on his Quidditch gear, checking the time twice before heading down.

"Almost late, Malfoy," his captain, Montague, threw him a dirty look before leading the team out and onto the pitch.

Of course, the Gryffindors came out a moment later, facing off against the Slytherin with a mixture of angry and annoyed looks. Weasley looked pale and sickly, like he was about to pass out on the quidditch pitch. Malfoy smirked, he supposed that _was_ a little satisfying. When he turned his eyes on Potter, his satisfaction died. Potter was glaring at him, his emerald eyes dark and furious. Draco just looked away.

The whistle blew, sending everyone up. Draco shot off in the air, as far from Potter as he could get. He felt the stands get quiet as the Slytherin's song began to rise and people stopped talking to listen to the lyrics.

 _Weasley cannot save a thing,  
He cannot block a single ring,  
That's why Slytherins all sing;  
Weasley is our King._

He winced, searching the stands for the snitch and keeping an eye on Potter to make sure he didn't try to head toward Draco in a blaze of glory takeout.

 _Weasley is our King,  
Weasley is our King,  
He always lets the Quaffle in,  
Weasley is our King._

He saw Potter complete abandon his search for the snitch and turn his broom toward Weasley, his face a mask of horror as he watched Weasley let a goal in.

 _Weasley cannot save a thing,  
He cannot block a single ring…_

He winced, Pansy had written the lyrics. He thought they were childish and was sure he could have done better- not that he was about to announce that to anyone's face.

 _WEASLEY IS BORN IN A BIN,  
HE ALWAYS LETS THE QUAFFLE IN…_

Draco suddenly realized he had given up his search for the snitch and dived back into his seeker duties. He wanted this match _over._

 _WEASLEY WILL MAKE SURE WE WIN,  
WEASLEY IS OUR KING…_

He saw someone on the Gryffindor team yell at Potter, and he suddenly veered back into action, tearing his eyes away from Weasley. Draco searched frantically, where, _where_?

 _WEASLEY IS OUR KING,  
WEASLEY IS OUR KING…._

Suddenly he caught sight of the golden ball, letting out a loud exclamation, he dived toward the snitch. He saw Potter veer toward him, coming up on his broom tails.

 _WEASLEY WAS BORN IN A BIN…_

Draco was just a few feet away, he ducked down further on the broom, putting on a burst of speed but somehow Potter was still gaining on him, growing even with Draco now. _No, no, no._

 _WEASLEY CANNOT SAVE A THING…._

They were even now, their shoulders almost touching, their faces inches apart. And then their eyes locked. Dazzling emeralds distracting Draco.

 _THAT'S WHY SLYTHERIN'S ALL SING:  
WEASLEY IS OUR KING._

Potter snatched the snitch from air, so fast Draco almost didn't see his hand fly out. Anger flashed through him. He'd distracted him on _purpose._ "You arsehole _._ " He hissed.

 _WEASLEY WAS BORN IN A BIN,  
HE ALWAYS LET'S THE QUAFFLE IN,  
WEASLEY WILL MAKE SURE WE WIN._

" _I'm_ the arsehole!?" Potter answered, eyes flashing in that way that made heat coil in Draco's stomach.

Draco was never sure who tackled who. He wasn't sure it _really_ mattered. Somehow, they ended up falling down, down, shouting obscenities at each other and punching and _trying_ to hurt each other. And it hurt, it hurt so bad. And it felt so good. It felt so good to be able to just let go and to feel and to know that someone understood.

Because if _Harry_ didn't, then no one would.

When he looked past Harry to see the ground hurtling closer and closer, he really debated just letting them collide with it. Then he thought of Harry splattered against the Quidditch pitch, never to breathe again and sprang into action.

Draco's hand closed around his broom, the other curling around Harry's wrist. They stopped three feet from the ground, wrenching both of their shoulders painfully. Harry looked down at the ground and then up at Draco with wide terrified eyes. Draco lowered them slowly, dropping Harry gently to the ground, where he stayed still staring and hanging onto Draco by the hand he'd used to save him.

"You saved my life." Harry said. Draco blinked, and it was just them. Just them sitting there staring at each other with bruises and fluttering eyes and parted lips and Draco wanted nothing more than Harry. Suddenly he was leaning forward, with no idea what he was going to do next but that didn't seem to matter, and Harry's lips were parted and he was leaning forward too and-

The shouting and frantic footsteps brought him back to reality.

"Yes, well." Draco wrenched himself away. "Don't cling, Potter. We wouldn't want to ruin your precious reputation, would we." He stood unsteadily and wobbled away, suddenly uncaring about the snitch still clasped in Potter's hand.


	7. Part 1: Chapter 7

**_Warning: The second half of the dream is straight from the book._**

Chapter 7- And What Do Dreams Make Me

Harry paced in front of the Slytherin dorm. It was the middle of the night and he was under his invisibility cloak, but he still felt like he was taking some horrible leap forward. He knew Draco was inside, he even knew which room. He'd only checked the Maurader's map a hundred times on his way down here. But he could never strike up the courage to go in. He didn't even know why he kept coming down here.

He just knew he wanted to talk—to see Draco. The most contact they'd had over the past three weeks had been an airborne fist fight that ended with Draco saving his life. Which Umbridge had apparently believed was all his fault and banned him from Quidditch for the rest of his life. Of course, Draco had also taken an active part of the fighting, but she hadn't seen _that._

Then Hagrid had returned the next day. Draco had been right, he'd been sent on a mission to try and get the giants to help the Order defeat Voldemort, but Harry wasn't quite ready to tell his friends that he already known where Hagrid had gone. He did, however, want to talk to Draco about everything he had learned. He also wanted to ask him why he'd been avoiding him. And he just wanted to see him—even if he wasn't allowed to touch him.

Harry sighed, looked at the Slytherin common room door one last time and then began pacing again.

* * *

The DA left the last meeting before Christmas break in twos and threes, leaving Hermione, Ron, Harry, Cho, and her friend in the room. December had arrived with little improvement in Harry's mood. He couldn't even look forward to the DA meetings without feeling a twinge of emptiness that Draco no longer came.

"You want us to go ahead, Harry?" Hermione asked, glancing over at Cho, who was now waving her friend ahead. Harry shrugged, he supposed it wouldn't hurt to talk to Cho now that there was no Draco in his life. Hermione pursed her lips, seemingly unconvinced.

"Come on, Hermione," Ron grabbed her arm, always eager to leave Harry alone with someone who wasn't Draco. She gave Harry one last concerned look but let Ron pull her out.

Harry looked over at Cho. She was standing in the middle of the room, making little sniffling sounds, and he realized suddenly she was crying.

"Um, Cho? Are you….?" He started and then trialed off. What was one supposed to say to a crying girl who was just standing in the middle of the room?

"I'm sorry," she hiccupped, wiping her eyes, "I just-."

"It's fine," he cut her off. He _really_ didn't want to hear about Cedric right now no matter how bad it made him feel to think it. Suddenly Draco's voice sounded in his head, _who cares about everyone else_. _You deserve to be happy._ You _._ Harry started moving toward the door, "I understand, Cho, really."

"No, wait!" She called, "don't go. I'm sorry to get all upset… I don't mean to…" He didn't have any argument to that. _He_ didn't mean to do a lot of stupid things that he ended up doing anyway. Granted most of them involved Draco but still… He supposed crying could be the same thing.

He thought about what Draco would _say_ if he saw Harry in the position he was in right now. He would probably tell him he was an idiot for not leaving when he had the chance. He laughed lightly, and Cho smiled, probably thinking he was laughing at whatever she had said. He felt a moment of panic, she was leaning toward him now, her soft lips curved in a smile with tear tracks still visible down her face. Her dark eyes _were_ pretty, and he supposed the freckles on her nose were attractive when the light hit them like that.

"I really like you, Harry." She murmured, her lips maybe an inch away from his. And he thought, maybe-just maybe-he could fall in love with her if he really tried. She was pretty and smart and talented and good at Quidditch-

He realized a second too late that hers were not the lips he wanted to be kissing.

* * *

Harry returned to the common room feeling broken. His head hurt, his heart hurt, his _soul_ hurt. The only person he _wanted_ to see didn't want anything to do with him. He went into the common room to find Hermione and Ron seated by the fire, with most everyone else already gone up to bed. Harry tried to sneak up to his bed behind them, but Hermione's sharp voice called him over.

"Harry? What took you so long?" She asked. "Did you talk to Cho?" He sighed and made his way over to his friends.

"A little," he said. She gave him a speculative glance, pushing her work to the side in favor of studying him.

"Are you ok?"

"I'm fine, Hermione."

"You don't seem fine," she answered. "In fact, you haven't _seemed_ fine since Malfoy stopped talking to you." He glared at her and she conceded with a sigh. "Fine, so what happened with Cho?"

"Well," Harry shifted, feeling uncomfortable, "she was crying and wanted to talk-."

"Why was she crying?" Ron interrupted.

"Did she kiss you?" Hermione ignored him. Harry was 90% sure he preferred Ron's question.

"Yeah," he answered reluctantly.

"HA!" Ron exclaimed, and Hermione glared at him. "What?" He turned back to Harry with a grin, "Well, was it good?"

"No."

"No?" Ron blinked. "But…"

"It was like she really didn't want to be kissing me in the first place," Harry twirled his thumbs together thoughtfully. "Then when she stopped, she just started sobbing on me and…"

"And…?" Hermione prompted.

"And," Harry hesitated and then changed his mind. He just wasn't ready to admit that he'd rather be kissing Draco Malfoy. Not to Hermione and Ron. "Nothing," he muttered, "it's nothing." He sighed. "I should really be going to bed." He stood and headed to his dorm.

"That was bizarre," Ron said, watching his best friend mount the stairs. Hermione threw a quill at him.

"Really, Ron, you have the emotional range of a wart. How can you _not_ tell what's going on between Harry, Cho, and Malfoy?"

"Malfoy?" Ron gapped, "What's Malfoy got to do with anything?"

"Oh, honestly," she began to pack up her school things. "How _you're_ his best friend, I'll never know."

* * *

Harry was kissing Cho, he could feel her tears slide across her cheeks and down onto her lips. He could taste her tears. It wasn't unpleasant. But there was still something wrong with the kiss. Her lips weren't the right shape. They were too soft. They were too curved. Her top lip was too big..

Harry opened his eyes to look past Cho and locked eyes with Draco. He was watched the two of them with shaded silver-gray eyes. And then suddenly Harry was kissing Draco, backed up against a wall, his hands pinned above his head, his mouth being ravaged. He knew Cho was watching and he didn't care. He just didn't want Draco to stop.

Then he was standing in front of Ron who was babbling about how Draco was using him. "You'll be better off without him!" Ron kept insisting. And Hermione stood of Harry's other side and kept point at a giant hole in Harry's chest yelling, "Does he look better off, Ron!?" And he turned his head and caught sight of Cho, with her head in her hands, crying off to the side.

"Why didn't you choose me?" She asked. "Why is he better than me? He doesn't even care about you?" Then it was Draco, standing an holding his hand out to Harry, an affectionate smile on his lips.

"Come to me, Harry," he whispered. Harry took a step forward, still unsure of whether he'd accept the hand or not...

Then, the dream changed….

His body felt smooth, powerful, and flexible. He was gliding between shining metal bars, across dark, cold stone…. He was flat against the floor, sliding along on his belly… It was dark, yet he could see objects around him shimmering in strange, vibrant colors…..He was turning his head… At first glance, the corridor was drooping onto his chest, his outline gleaming in the dark… Harry put out his tongue…He tasted the ma's scent on the air…He was alive but drowsing…sitting in front of the door at the end of the corridor….Harry longed to bite the man…but he must master the impulse…. He had more important work to do….

But the man was stirring… a silvery cloak fell from his legs as he jumped to his feet; and Harry saw his vibrant, blurred outline towering above him, saw a wand withdrawn from a belt… He had no choice… He reared up high from the floor and struck once, twice, three times, plunging his fangs deeply into the man's flesh, feeling his ribs splinter beneath his jaws, feeling the warm gush of blood…

The man was yelling in pain… then he fell silent… He slumped against the wall… Blood splattered the floor…

* * *

The screaming woke him up. Someone yelling his name so loudly he wrenched upright and then clenched his hands over his scar. It was burn, throbbing, it hurt so bad he thought his head might burst.

"HARRY!" Someone screamed his name again, he only had a second to register that it was Ron's voice before he leaned over the side of his bed and vomited. When he sat back up the pain in his head had diminished but it was still blindingly painful.

"I'm going for help!" Someone yelled. Harry heard footsteps run from the room but paid it no mind.

"Ron," he croaked. "Ron, you're dad…"

"What?"

"Your dad's been attacked."

"Harry, you were dreaming."

"No!" Harry shouted. He needed them to understand. It wasn't just a dream, it was real. He threw the covers off him.

" _Harry!"_ Ron yelled, trying to grab him. But Harry just stumbled out of bed, he could only think of one person who would believe him, who would just take him at him word. He stumbled down the stairs, tripping twice and clamping his hands over his face to try and stop the feeling of hot coals being burned against his forehead. "Harry, stop!" Ron was yelling after him, but Harry wasn't about to be stopped.

Harry ignored him, turning out into the corridor and stumbling in the direction of the Slytherin commons. Ron tried to grab him again, but Harry dodged his hands. About halfway to the dungeons, he managed to find his feet and about 3/4th of the way there, the pain in his scar turned into a dull throbbing. He spoke the Slytherin password and the portrait swung open with a disgruntled hiss.

"How did you know….?" Ron gapped and then scrambled in the hole after him. Harry continued to ignore him, heading straight for Draco's room. "Harry," Ron said, his voice a hushed whisper in the deathly quiet common room. "Harry, have you lost your mind?" Harry pushed open Draco's prefect door, grasped his shoulders, and shook him, hard.

"Draco," Harry called frantically, "Draco, wake up!" Draco jerked awake, flinging himself away from Harry and bring his hands up to smack Harry across the face and chest.

"Let me go!" Draco yelled, still struggling against Harry's hold on him. "Let me go!"

"Draco," Harry answered, hands tight on Draco's shoulders. "Draco, it's me." Draco seemed to relax at the sound of his voice and then he slowly opened his eyes, fixing his silver-gray eyes on Harry.

"What the fuck, Harry?" He said, now all but limp. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against Harry's shoulder. "Are you trying to kill me?"

"I had a dream," Harry answered. He was shocked; he'd never seen Draco like this. Never even considered that he could scare him this badly.

"So?" Draco pulled back, eyebrows drawing together as he looked up at Harry. Then he glanced around and seemed to realize where they were, his eyes locking on Ron. "Why are you in my _bedroom_ with the Weasel, Potter? I swear if you-."

"I had a dream about _Voldemort_ , Draco." Harry whispered. Silence. And then:

"You _fucking_ idiot! I _told_ you." Draco screamed, smacking Harry on his shoulder, his chest, his face. "I _told_ you, you needed to close your mind! But did you _listen_? No, you fucking stupid little twat of a-."

"Draco!" Harry grabbed his wrists, wincing as his elbow connected painfully with Harry's rib. "Ron's dad is really hurt. He needs help."

"Why didn't you go to the headmaster?" Draco asked, scowling at Harry. "Why come to me?" Harry blinked, and then blushed. The idea hadn't even occurred to him.

"No one will believe me." He said finally. "I sound crazy." Draco snorted in answer. "Please, Draco, I need your help."

"Whatever, Potter," Draco sighed, rolling his eyes in a show of how put upon he was, "let's just go."

To Draco's credit he didn't make them wait for him to get dressed or anything, he just grabbed Harry's hand and led him straight out of the Slytherin commons and toward the Headmaster's rooms.

"Go find a teacher, Weasley," he said. "I'm sure they're all looking for Potter at this point." Ron opened his mouth to argue, but Draco just send him a deadly glare and Ron was gone.

"Draco-," Harry tried. He didn't know what he was going to say, just that he needed to say something to get rid of the horrible tension between them. He had run to Draco without a second thought and now almost found himself regretting the impulse. He still wanted Draco with him, he just wished he knew what to say to him.

"You need to control your mind, Harry," Draco interrupted. "If you keep letting The Dark Lord in like that, you might just lose it."

"Why do you call him The Dark Lord?" Harry asked. "Are you scared to say Voldemort?"

"Yes," Draco answered, his voice so soft Harry almost missed it.

"But-."

"Potter!" McGonagall's voice interrupted them. She appeared out of the gloom of the corridor, Ron right on her heels. "Malfoy?" She faltered. "What's going on? What's happened?"

"Potter's had a dream, Professor." Draco said, stepping forward. "Take us to the Headmaster." McGonagall blinked at him. "Now." Draco demanded. McGonagall blinked but gestured the three of them behind her and led the way.

"Fizzing Whizbee," she said, and the stone gargoyle jumped out of the way, allowing them to climb up the stair and enter Dumbledore's office. Dumbledore was already at his desk, dressed casually in a night shirt with a dressing gown on top. He looked curiously at Draco and then smiled warmly at the rest of them.

"Ah, Professor McGonagall-," he started.

"Headmaster," Draco cut through his words in that smooth aristocratic way that only Draco could. "Potter has had a dream. He believes Mr. Weasley to be badly injured, you need to send people to the Department of Mysteries immediately." Harry blinked at him. The Department of Mysteries… What was Draco talking about? Ron seemed equal confused, but McGonagall and Dumbledore were staring at Draco with something close to alarm.

"Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore said after a moment, "you seem... well informed."

"Yes, my father likes me to know what's going on." Draco replied steadily. "Now are you going to allow Mr. Weasley to die or not." He shrugged as if he couldn't care less but Harry caught the tension behind the movement. "I admit I wouldn't care which you'd choose, the Weasley's have never done anything for me."

"Hey!" Ron said, stepping toward Draco. Dumbledore blinked at Draco one more time and then turned to his portraits and began to issue orders about retrieving Mr. Weasley.

"How did you know all that?" Harry asked. Draco sent him a speculative look before answering.

"I'll explain it all to you later."

"Explain what?" Ron asked. He looked over at them, his eyes just a touch too wide. Harry wondered if he was going to go into shock soon.

"Worry about your father, Weasley," Draco answered. His voice was soft, and Harry blinked at the kindness in it.

"Harry?" Dumbledore suddenly called, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the now empty portraits. "In your dream, what position did you see everything happening from?" Harry gaped at him, it was almost as if he knew. A hand reached down to clasp his leg. Harry looked over, looked into sympathetic silver-grey eyes and realized Dumbledore _did_ know, just as Draco did.

"I was the snake," Harry whispered.

"Headmaster," Draco spoke and Dumbledore and fixed his eyes on Draco. Harry felt anger surge through him, why wouldn't he look at _him_. "Harry needs Occlumency lessons. He can't keep going on the way he is." Before Dumbledore could answer one of the portraits returned, panting against his frame.

"I yelled until someone came," he said. "They carried him up a few minutes later. He doesn't look too good, he's all covered in blood…" The man trialed off as Harry shivered. Draco's hand tightened on his knee.

"Good," Dumbledore answered. "Minerva, I need you to go and wake the other Weasley children." He then turned back to Ron and _still_ kept his eyes away from Harry. "You'll be spending the holiday at Sirius' house-."

"Sirius Black?" Draco interrupted. "I thought he was dead." Harry's lips twitched, finally _something_ Draco didn't know.

"No, Mr. Malfoy." Dumbledore answered, scribbling something down on a piece of paper. "Now, I want you to memorize this." He handed the paper to Draco.

"What? Why?"

"Because you will be accompanying the Weasley's for the holidays."

"What?" Draco answered. "Absolutely not!"

"Mr. Malfoy, you are entirely correct that Harry needs an Occlumency teacher and he seems to trust you-."

"You want _me_ to teach him Occlumency?"

"Well, obviously not you alone. Besides, you're obviously very skilled at it," Dumbledore answered, "you've resisted all my attempts to open your mind since you've walked into the room. In addition, you know too much."

"So, I'll be a prisoner." Draco's face tightened.

"No, think of it as us helping you, Mr. Malfoy."

" _Helping_ me," Draco responded flatly.

"Yes," Dumbledore smiled. "After all, I think I'm correct in assuming you're not happy with the direction your life is heading down, are you?" Draco blinked slowly at him, his face never changing. "I'll make all the arrangement with your family." Draco blinked at him again. Dumbledore seemed to take this as acknowledgement and turned away.

Before Harry could really decide how he felt about spending the entire Christmas holidays locked up with not only the Weasleys but Draco as well—the rest of the Weasleys came in.

"Great," he thought he heart Draco mutter, "just _great_."

"Harry—what's going on?" Ginny asked. "Professor McGonagall says you saw Dad hurt-." Thankfully Dumbledore started talking before he had to. He gestured everyone around his desk and told them to take hold of a blacken kettle saying they would be traveling by portkey.

"One," he counted, "two," his eyes flipped up, meeting Harry's for the first time that night. Immediately, Harry's scar burned white hot, filling him with an intense hatred so powerful he wanted to leap across the small space and pierce Dumbledore with his fangs. To make him bleed. To make him hurt, to _suffer_. "Three."

Harry felt a sickening pull around his navel and then was launched through space and banged onto the ground. He tumbled to the ground with the rest of the Weasley's. The only one who was able to remain standing was Draco, who cast a disgusted look around him before looking back down at Harry. His face softened slightly, and he extended a hand. Harry accepted it gratefully, letting Draco pull him to his feet. Neither of them let go when Harry was standing.

"Are you alright?" Draco asked softly, his thumb skimming across Harry's knuckles.

"Fine." Harry answered. Draco raised one pale eyebrow at him and Harry suddenly felt like collapsing on his shoulder and sobbing just like Cho had done to him.

"The dreams don't make you a bad person, Harry," Draco said. Harry's eyes widened, and he looked around to make sure no one had heard.

"You saw?"

"I saw."


	8. Part 1: Chapter 8

**_Warning: This chapter shifts viewpoints from Draco to Harry then back to Draco. Let me know if it's too confusing._**

Chapter 8- And Why Am I Here

Harry was shaking. Not the good kind of shaking that would have made Draco hard and ready to jump him any second but the kind of shaking that signaled a nervous breakdown.

"OUT," a voice roared, sending the house elf that had been muttering and hovering around them out of the room reluctantly. In its place an unshaven man came in, and Draco had to wrinkle his nose. The man had long black hair that fell into his face and eyes that seemed to match his aunt Bellatrix's slightly insane ones. "What's going on?" He asked, reaching out to help the youngest Weasley up off the floor. Draco felt his lip curl. Seriously, _what_ pure-blood couldn't land a port-key. It was simply disgraceful.

"Ask Harry," Twin Weasley 1 said.

"Yeah," Twin Weasley 2 confirmed. The look of pure panic in Harry's eyes sent a spike of anger through Draco. Did the Weasley's not have a _speck_ of sympathy in them. Could they not _see_ how close to shitting his pants he was? Everyone was staring straight at Harry, waiting. Draco sighed, evidently, he was the only _sane_ one here.

He couldn't say he was surprised.

"Harry might very well have saved your worthless father," he said. "The last thing he deserves is for you to be questioning him."

"Draco-," Harry started.

"Come along, Potter," Draco ignored him, his tone as imperious as he could make it. "I need you to show me to my room." Harry hesitated but eventually followed, leaving the Weasley's and Sirius Black staring after them. He led Draco down several hallways and up a flight of stairs, finally stopping in front of a dark wood door.

"My room is right across the hall," he said, shifting his feet and rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably.

"You won't be sharing with me?" Draco answered, flicking his eyes and looking up at Harry through his eyelashes. Really the number of times Harry did it to him, it was only fair play.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea." Harry immediately blushed crimson and looked away.

"Of course, not," Draco answered, turning his face away.

"I- what?" Harry blinked, and Draco turned his face away. What was he _doing_? That seemed to be the million-galleon question in his life right now. Why hadn't he thrown Potter out of his room? Why hadn't he run when Dumbledore was trying to send him with the Weasley's? Why was he trying to flirt with Harry?

He didn't know. He didn't know the answer to any of those questions, and that scared him. But it scared him even more that he couldn't seem to stop doing any of it.

"Nothing, Potter." Draco said.

"Oh," Harry answered, still standing awkwardly outside of Draco's door.

"Yes, oh." Draco said, making no move to leave either.

"Um…" Harry said and then trailed off, hesitating to say whatever he was thinking. Draco felt like running down the hall screaming but knew he wasn't about to move. Harry needed him. Heneededsomeone to hear what he was about to say. And for some reason what Harry needed was more important than what Draco needed, right now.

"Draco, I…." his startling green eyes flicked up, "I feel like it's my fault." Draco started in surprise when he realized just how _wet_ those green eyes really were. "Why do I feel so guilty?" Harry asked, his voice soft and full of guilt. "I feel like I was the one who attacked him in the first place!" Draco reached out, but Harry just shook his hand off. "And Dumbledore! What happened with Dumbledore? What if V-vol-," for the first time since Draco had known him, Harry couldn't seem to get the Dark Lord's name out of his mouth. He choked and then gave up, moving on with his hysteria. "What if he's using me and I- What if I'm just like him?" He asked it so seriously, staring up at Draco imploringly as if he had all the answers.

"You're bloody insane, you know that?" Draco said, and Harry blinked at him. "Didn't I already tell you that you're not a terrible person? You think I was lying to make you feel better?" He glared down at Harry, who dropped his eyes. Immediately, Draco grabbed his chin and wrenched his head up to face him again. "You just saved someone's life while having to endure the horrifying experience of not only watching them almost die but watching it from the attacker's point of view and you have the gal to feel _guilty?"_ Draco snorted, and Harry flinch. "And _now_ you're asking whether or not you're actually a good person or not?" Harry was crying now, staring at Draco with rapt attention. "You _must_ be insane, Harry Potter."

* * *

At the sound of his name, Harry put his head in his hands and let himself cry. Draco hesitated as he reached out for him and this time Harry let Draco touch him. It felt blissful to have Draco put his hands on him, even if it was only temporary. The tears began to come harder, compressing against his chest and making it hard to breathe.

"Sh," Draco whispered, pulling him flush against his body. Harry pressed his face against Draco's chest, blurring out the tears as best he could. "Let it out."

"Dr-dr-dra-," Harry said, his voice breaking. He didn't even know what he was going to say, just that he _needed_ to say it. He _couldn't_ let Draco just pull away and leave him again. He wouldn't survive if he did.

"It's alright," Draco murmured into his ear. "I'm right here."

"B-bu-," A sob ripped through Harry chest. It _wasn't enough._ He knew _this_ kind considerate Draco would be gone in the morning, replaced by the perfect and sarcastic Malfoy whom he loathed for the sole fact that he wasn't Harry'sDraco.

"I'm not going anywhere, you greedy little git." Draco sighed. "Not until you order me away." Harry shook his head and clung to him. _I'll always want you,_ Harry thought, though the words wouldn't leave his mouth.

* * *

Draco led Harry into his room, closing the door behind them while Harry clung to him, still crying softly into his shoulder as Draco brought them across the room and laid down on the bed, still cradling Harry in his arms. It only took a few minutes for Harry to fall asleep against him, leaving drying tear tracks running down his face and his hands still clutching fistfuls of Draco's pajamas.

Draco sighed, unsure of where he was supposed to go from here. He knew he would keep his promise. Hell, he'd known before he'd even bothered to make the bloody promise.

Harry slept the rest of the morning though Draco didn't. Partly because he was afraid of what he would see in his dreams and partly because he couldn't bring himself to drag his eyes from Harry's blissfully peaceful face. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Harry look truly relaxed, much less _happy_. It had probably been in 2nd or 3rd year.

Draco tensed when he heard banging start from below. Harry began stirring restlessly against him and he glared at the door, _stupid Weasleys_. After a couple minutes of putting up with the infernal banging, he decided he better go put a stop to it before it woke Harry completely. Merlin knew he needed the sleep. Draco wiggled out of Harry's grip, taking care to unclasp Harry's fists and gently placing a pillow under his head. He wasted about a minute looking down at Harry's face before sighing and leaving the room.

He followed the sounds down the stairs and through the hallways until he reached a crossed dining area and kitchen that the Weasley's and Sirius Black were occupying loudly. At the sound of Draco's footsteps, Sirius Black turned around and blinked at Draco as if he couldn't quite believe he was still here.

"There you are." He said, his voice low and only slightly hostile. "Do you-."

"Shut _up_." Draco snapped at him. "Potter is sleeping and these days I doubt he gets enough sleep."

"Harry was with _you_ all night?" Black asked, and Draco only barely settled for glaring at him. He doubted Potter would appreciate him murdering Sirius Black.

"Well, he certainly wasn't with you," he answered, crossing the kitchen to look down at the plate of bacon and eggs, wrinkling his nose with distaste.

"Do you have to be such a git, Malfoy?" Weasley glared.

"You think I _want_ to be here, Weasley?" Draco answered.

"I think-," Weasley started but was interrupted by the opening of the front room. Draco sent him a mocking look and watched in satisfaction as Weasley's face turned bright red.

"Wotcher!" A woman with bright pink hair called. Her eyes turned to Draco and immediately shifted to grey in an imitation of his own. "Heya, Cousin!" She smiled at him, warm and bright in that way only Nymphadora had. "Finally decided to convert?"

"Something like that."

"Yeah," Nymphadora's smile widened. "Good for you, Lucius never deserved you."

"Tonks?" Sirius Black almost chocked on her nickname and Draco almost—almost. He tried, really he did—stopped his eyeroll. "You…"

"Where's Potter?" A large scarred man with a ridiculous bowler hat covering a magical eye asked. Draco instantly recognized him as Mad-Eyed Moody. Draco's finger began tapping against his thigh, pushing the memories of being turned into a ferret and bounced to the back of his mind. It hadn't even _been_ Moody.

"Ask him?" Sirius Black scowled, jerking his chin at Draco like a petulant child. Eyes turned to him and the tapping increased.

"He-," Draco cleared his throat and tried again. "He's still asleep."

"Well," Moody answered, "better get him up, we need to be heading to St. Mungo's if we're going."

"St. Mungo's?" Harry's voice asked. He was standing in the doorway, his hair a mess and his eyes still slightly red and puffy from crying. Draco turned his head away lest he abruptly give into the temptation and begin snogging him breathlessly.

"Eat something, Harry," Sirius Black told him. "Then you'll head out to St. Mungo's to see Arthur."

"I'm off to shower," Draco said, though he doubted anyone cared. He moved to leave the room but before he crossed the threshold, Harry had hold of his wrist, stopping him.

"Aren't you coming with us?" He asked, eyes wide and vulnerable. But there were just some things Draco wouldn't do.

"Why would I want to go, Potter?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. Harry flinched but just dropped his wrist and nodded.

He took the stairs two at a time, feeling like he was running away but telling himself _that_ was crazy. And Malfoys simply weren't crazy. He stepped out of his clothes, folding them neatly and placing them on the bed. If he'd been at home, he'd of just thrown them on the floor but for some reason he just didn't trust Sirius Black's pathetic excuse of a house elf to take care of his clothes. Draco then crossed to the bathroom and stepped into the shower. It felt blissful against his tense muscles and sleep deprived mind. It brought him much needed clarity and distance.

When he emerged from his room—feeling clean and refreshed after his clothes had undergone a powerful _scourgify—_ the only one left in the house was Sirius Black. Draco had wandered the house for a while, looking for anything remotely entertaining. Finally, he had arrived in what appeared to be a library—only to realize Sirius Black was already there. He looked up at Draco, his eyes immediately darkening, and Draco prepared himself for the incoming confrontation.

"My Godson-," he started.

"-should fear no danger from me," Draco finished with a sigh.

"If you hurt him."

"Really," Draco rolled his eyes, focusing his attention on a bookshelf, "he's surrounded by people why mean to protect him, what could _I_ possibly do?"

"That's not what I meant."

"As if I could hurt him like that."

"You give Harry too much credit," Sirius Black muttered.

"No," Draco hesitated before turning back toward him as serious as he ever got. "I know exactly what Harry is capable of. I know how much he hurts inside, and I know how much he's capable of being hurt." Draco felt his lips twitch without permission. "I just also know what _I'm_ capable of too."

"Which is?" Sirius Black leaned forward expectantly.

"Really, Mr. Black," Draco scoffed, and turned away. "You think your precious Dumbledore would bring me here if I could hurt Potter, either physically or emotionally?" He started to leave the room but stopped with his hand on the knob. "Now I know where Potter gets his insanity."

* * *

Draco heard Harry and the others return later that day but didn't leave his room. He was a bit hurt that Harry didn't come looking for him. It wasn't like Draco was in an unexpected place, but he wasn't surprised. Of course, Harry would rather be with his Weasleys now that his moral issue had been solved. He just laid across his bed, refusing to look for Harry and being pathetically attached and unwanted.

If Harry wanted him. He'd come find him.

That was until he heard the yelling coming from across the hall. At first, he was determined to ignore it. Until he realized it was Harry's voice yelling. It wasn't really an active _choice_ to get up and head across the hall but somehow Draco was opening his door and staring as Harry yelled.

"Fine, go then," Harry was yelling at an empty portrait. "And tell Dumbledore thanks for nothing!"

"What are you doing?" Draco asked, feeling slightly concerned. He _really_ hoped there had been someone in that portrait a second ago. Harry jumped like a startled cat, turning to Draco with wide eyes. He cast a guilty look toward his bed, where a half-packed suitcase lay, as if he'd been interrupted in the middle of running away. "Running away without me?" He asked, simply raising an eyebrow and ignoring the hurt feeling boiling inside him. That wasn't the right way to deal with Harry when he got like this.

"You- You're not mad?" Harry blinked at him.

"Mad!" Draco asked, sniffing haughtily, "you were going to leave me to deal with Twin Weasley 1 and 2's pranks without your protection. I could have been turned purple." Draco contemplated _that_ horrifying thought and shuddered delicately. Harry laughed, and Draco glared. _"Purple_ Potter. I can assure you, I would _not_ look good turned purple. And it would be all your fault."

"I'm sorry, Draco," his lips twitched as he sat down on the end of his bed. Draco waved his hand and sat opposite him.

"So?"

"So…"

"So," Draco rolled his eyes, "why were we running away, Potter?"

"I…" Harry hesitated, studying his hands and carefully avoiding Draco's eyes. "We heard something at the hospital."

"Heard what?"

"Moody said he thought Voldemort was-," Harry stopped, swallowing hard.

"Come now, Potter," Draco said. "It can't be that bad." Harry's eyes flicked up to glare at him as if he very much disagreed.

"He thinks Voldemort is possessing me." Harry said. Draco blinked and felt his hand reach up to pinch the bridge of his nose. How could these people be so very _dense?_

"It's possible right?" Harry picked up in a rush. "I _was_ the snake! Voldemort could have…. And then with Dumbledore…. And what if I hurt someone and…. It's better if I just go, right? Before it happens again and… Even you said-."

"It's _possible_ ," Draco interrupted, looking up to meet Harry's desperate green eyes, "but it hasn't happened yet _._ "

"But how do you _know_?"

"I just-," Draco took a deep breath. "Right now, there's a connection between your minds, right?" Harry nodded. "So far, that's all this is."

"But what if it turns into more? I can't…." Harry shivered. "Draco, I just…"

"This is what I warned you about," Draco answered, trying to control the snap in his voice and just barely succeeding. "This is why you need to close your mind, Harry!" Suddenly, Harry's eyes locked on him clear and determined. Draco balked; he _knew_ that look.

"You can teach me," Harry said. "Dumbledore said you could."

"What?" Draco squawked. No, he asked. Malfoy's _didn't_ squawk. "No, I- just, no."

"Please, Draco?" Harry's green eyes turned pleading, leading Draco down, down, down and to his doom. He knew he wouldn't say no in the end, no matter how hard he tried to resist. "I need to know how to close my mind. I don't want him to be able to-. Or-or… Draco, _please._ "

"Fine," Draco sighed. "That's why I'm here anyway, right?"

"Thank you," Harry looked relieved, stepping forward. "So, what do I do?"

"You want to start _now_?" Draco asked. Harry nodded, and Draco sighed again, wondered one more time what _had_ he gotten himself into.


	9. Part 1: Chapter 9

**_Warning: N/A_**

Chapter 9- And Who Do You Hate

Draco stared at him, blinked and then continued to stare at him. Harry really didn't understand what the problem was, sure he was upset and there was a _slight_ possibility he was possessed and evil, but he needed to do this, and he needed to do it _now_. Why couldn't Draco understand that?

Finally, _finally,_ Draco sighed, casting the ceiling a 'why me?' look before turning back to Harry and beginning to study him. He resisted the temptation to wiggle under Draco's unnerving silver-grey scrutiny. It was like he was looking through Harry.

"Well," he sighed again, "you failed the first test."

"What?" Harry's eyes widened. Test? What was Draco talking about, test? "But-."

"You _never_ look a Legitimist in the eye, Potter." Draco snapped irritably. "Not unless you _want_ him to take over your mind."

"But-."

"Also, your emotions are too obvious, they're written all over your face, you need to close yourself off if you want a chance of holding off The Dark Lord."

"I can't just not feel," Harry frowned, thinking of the way Draco seemed as if he truly didn't have any emotions when he wanted. It was like he could flip a switch and seem cold and unyielding without ever having felt anything in the first place. It was happening less and less and was virtually nonexistent when they were alone, but the fear that Draco would suddenly be gone behind his emotionless mask was always _there_.

"Don't be daft, Potter." Draco rolled his eyes. "Turning off your emotions is impossible. Hiding them isn't."

"How do I do that?"

"Occlumency and Ligitimency is a mix of strength, control and cunning. You have to be able to confuse your opponent, show them what they want to see so they don't suspect you of anything. But at the same time, that takes overwhelming self-control to not only keep your emotions from affecting your actions but also your _thoughts_ and you also need the strength to keep anyone out of the places of your mind that you don't want them to see." Harry's eyebrows crinkled. He supposed that all made sense, but he didn't see how it helped him with _his_ particular problem. It also opened a whole slew of questions about Draco himself, like how much _he_ used those strategies and just why he needed to know them so well.

"I don't understand how this helps me." Harry said, and Draco cast him a slightly disgruntled look.

"Occlumency helps everyone, even people who _aren't_ struggling with having someone else inside their heads."

"But Voldemort isn't trying to read my thoughts, he-," Harry started to protest.

"Harry, the first step of possession is understanding the victim," Draco said, holding Harry's eyes easily. "If you stop him from getting inside, then he'll never understand you, and if he never understands you then he'll never be able to control you. You'll be safe in at least one place."

"I don't-," Harry blinked.

"You're mind, you dolt." Draco rolled his eyes. "You'll always be safe inside your own mind."

"But I don't want to pretend to be someone I'm not," Harry said. Though he stopped himself from adding _like you_. Draco seemed to understand him anyway.

"You don't have to," he turned his head away. "The only one you have to fool is The Dark Lord. Give him what he wants on the outside but never let him see what you're thinking on the inside. That's the trick. You asked what to do and I'm sorry you don't like the answer but it's the only one I have."

* * *

That night when Harry had his usual dream of the door, he tried to remember Draco's advice. He tried to keep his innermost thoughts hidden, but it was impossible when conflicted against his overwhelming desire to see, to _know_ what was beyond the door. Eventually, he woke to the pounding of Ron's feet on the stairs and the sounds of voices in the kitchen below.

He sighed into his pillows, wishing he felt a speck better than he did yesterday. But no one but Draco had strung two words together for him and unsurprisingly he wasn't any good at the Occlumency that Draco had tried to teach him. Harry promptly rolled over and ignored Mrs. Weasley's summons to come down. No one bothered him until about 6 o'clock. When a loud knocking on his door made him start and sit up from bed.

"Harry," Draco's voice called from the door, followed by another loud knock. "You've been moping all day. It's time to get _up._ " Harry sighed loudly and shuffled his way to the door, opening it to reveal Draco standing in the doorway with an annoyed expression plastered to his face, and Hermione slightly behind him.

"Hermione?" Harry blinked at her and then turned his eyes back on Draco, shadowed silvery-grey ones. He was obviously employing the techniques he'd explained to Harry yesterday, though what he thought Harry could do to him, he didn't understand in the slightest. "What's going on?"

"Ask her," Draco said, lips curling into a slight sneer. "She was babbling some nonsense about the night bus and wanting to talk to you and having to wait for Dumbledore to give permission."

"Oh," Hermione interrupted, casting Draco a sideways look that Harry didn't understand. "That's _hardly_ important. Let's go below and talk, Mrs. Weasley set up a fire and some sandwiches."

"Oh, how _wonderful_ ," Draco's lip curled even further, and Hermione elbowed him.

"Be nice." She led the way down stairs, still talking and expecting Harry and Draco to be following behind her. "It was really Draco who was worried about you." She said, and Harry's eyes cut to Draco, who narrowed his own eyes. "He sent me a letter the night you disappeared almost begging me to come and then another today about how you'd hidden yourself away because of what Moody had said. He really sounded quite frantic." This was news to Harry. Draco didn't even seem barely concerned when Harry was talking to him, much less frantic enough to beg Hermione to come spend the holidays with them.

" _Granger,_ " Draco snapped. "Malfoy's are _never_ frantic." Though Harry noticed he didn't contradict anything else she had said.

"Mm-hmm." Hermione said. She pushed open a door and ushered Harry and Draco through. Ron and Ginny were waiting for them, sitting on the bed with a plate of sandwiches between them and watching the three of them eagerly.

"Well," Draco said, he was still standing in the doorway, looking into the room with a mixture of scorn and—Harry could just barely see it in the back of his eyes—nervousness. "I think I'll leave the therapy to you lot." He started to turn on his heel, but Hermione caught his collar before he took a single step.

"Not so fast," she said, shoving him into the room. He flopped gracefully onto the bed and scowled over at her before turning cold eyes on Ginny and Ron. They frowned but didn't say anything. Hermione gave Harry an expectant look and he sighed, deciding it wasn't worth the fight to go against them. He sat down on the bed next to Draco and across from Ron and Ginny. Hermione scooted a chair between the two beds and looked at the four of them expectantly. "So?"

"I don't know why you suddenly all want to talk to me," Harry said.

"Oh, stop feeling all misunderstood." Hermione sighed. "Look, Draco told me what you overheard and-."

"So, even Draco's concerned about my being possessed now?" Harry snapped, turning on him. He supposed he didn't really blame him, not after Harry's spectacular failure with Occlumency. He supposed, if he were in Draco's position he would be concerned too.

"What?" Draco eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Then he seemed to realize what exactly Harry had meant, and his silver-grey eyes flashed dangerously before his face smoothed back into the same impassive mask as before. "Don't be denser than you can manage, Potter," He sniffed. "Why would I lie to you about being possessed?" Harry blinked at him before realizing that Draco was right. Draco was right, and Harry had been wrong to question him as he always was.

"You talked to him before you talked to us?" Ginny said, her hands clenching on the sheets of the bed.

"None of you would even look at me!" Harry answered, turning his attention back to them.

"Harry," Draco said, so quietly he almost missed his words. "That's not true, _you've_ been avoiding everyone. You just shut yourself down after you had trouble with Occlumency," Draco reached out, setting his hand firmly on Harry's knee. He flinched in surprise and Draco's hand immediately snapped back, folding on his lap with careful precision. Harry cursed himself; he wished he would put his hand back, but he knew Draco wasn't about to touch him again after that reaction.

"I didn't want anyone to talk to me," Harry whispered, suddenly feeling ashamed in a way that only Draco's softly spoken words seemed to pull out of him.

"Well, that was stupid," Ginny snapped. "Seeing as I know what it's like to be possessed." Harry's guilt suddenly increased tenfold. Of course, Ginny would understand, and he had just shoved her aside. "I could have told you-."

"Don't even try to make him feel guiltier than he already does." Draco interrupted, his voice suddenly loud and angry and very _there_. "You have no idea what he feels like! You were an obsessed little girl writing your heart out in a journal with no thought to the consequences."

"Hey!" Ron said, but Draco ignored him, his focus completely on Ginny as he continued to rant.

"Harry has someone invading his mind and the lot of you demanding answers he doesn't have and doing nothing to alleviate the guilt he _shouldn't_ feel because for some stupid reason he believes he's possessed, or he somehow deserves to be unhappy," Draco huffed out a laugh. "Why does he believe that? Because someone on _your own side_ suggested it. It disgusts me." His nose wrinkled, and he did look genuinely disgusted. "All of it, but mostly that you think you can sit there and think yourself so superior when it was you lot who caused this whole mess in the first place."

Then he stood and swept out of the room, slamming the door behind him angrily. Harry blinked. He felt he should go after Draco, but he could move. And even if he did find him, he had no idea what he would say. Somehow thank you just didn't seem appropriate.

"I _told_ you he was frantic." Hermione said finally, watching Harry with some satisfaction.

"Harry," Ginny clasped her hands together, looking at him through wide eyes. "I didn't mean to-."

"It's fine, Ginny," Harry answered. "Draco's overreacting."

"Like Hell he is," Hermione said, scooting her chair closer and taking one of Harry's hands in both of hers. "Look, Draco's right, Harry. You have no reason to feel guilty. No one blames you and no one really believes you've been possessed, right Ron?"

"Yeah," Ron nodded. "We're really just concerned about you, mate."

"And that includes Draco," Hermione squeezed his hand. "He may be an arshole but he _does_ care about you, Harry. At least enough to write me frantic letters." Ron snorted but said nothing to contradict Hermione's words.

* * *

Harry wasn't entirely sure whether his talk with Ron, Ginny, and Hermione had achieved anything or not but at least they were looking at and speaking to each other without it seeming awkward. Draco, however, had locked himself in his room and was only coming out long enough to eat the occasional meal before slipping back into his self-imposed isolation.

As the days passed, Harry grew more and more worried, had he said something wrong? Did Draco no longer want to see him? Did he just want privacy? Harry wondered belatedly how it was ok for Draco to do that but not him.

"You could just go _talk_ to him, you know?" Hermione had sighed, seating herself next to Harry and giving him an annoyed look.

"What?"

"You're thinking about Draco again, I can tell."

"How can you….?" Harry had shaken his head. "Since when has he become 'Draco' to you?"

"Since he started caring about you." She'd shrugged.

"He doesn't-," Harry had stopped himself from saying that depressing thought out loud. But it remained in his head. Draco had made it clear that he didn't _really_ want anything to do with Harry. He'd probably sent Hermione a note so she could take the responsibility away from him, and Hermione had just gotten the wrong idea.

"So, what are you getting him for Christmas?"

"I-," Harry had blinked. The question had been bothering for a while. He wondered if he should even get him anything. It wasn't like they were friends or boyfriends. Besides, the fact that he had absolutely no idea what Draco would even _like._ "I don't even know if I shouldget him something."

"Don't be daft, Harry," she'd rolled her eyes. "Just get him something simple that he'll like. Really, it can't be that hard." He had eventually settled on some new potion textbooks and a Muggle Mystery novel that he thought was pushing it but when he saw it, he had thought only of Draco.

So, on Christmas morning he was almost too nervous to go over to his pile of presents and start poking around them. What if Draco hadn't gotten him a present, would he think Harry was crazy for getting him something when he didn't think Harry was worth getting something in return.

Ron smiled at him over his own large pile of presents and then turned back to unwrapping eagerly. Harry reluctantly headed over to his pile and started unwrapping. Sirius and Lupin had given Harry a set of Defense books, Hagrid had given him a fanged wallet, Hermione a planner, Mrs. Weasley a hand-made jumper with a large H on it. There was only one present left, one addressed to Harry in a swirling fancy script that could only belong to one person.

Harry's heart soared as he picked up the small square package, wondering what could be inside. He jumped at the loud pop as Fred and George Apparated into the room, hiding the present from Draco behind his back.

"Merry Christmas," George said. "Don't go downstairs for-."

"Excuse me," Harry said abruptly, slipping around Fred and sneaking into the bathroom. He closed and locked the door behind him and then sat down on the toilet to examine his present. It was a small cube like box that didn't make any noise when Harry shook it next to his ear.

With a shrug, Harry carefully unwrapped the cube, revealing a velvet ring box that fit inside the palm of his hand. Biting his lip, he pulled back the lid. Sitting in the box was an intricate silver ring carved in the shape of a coiling snake. The snake's eyes were glittering emeralds that were cut to reflect the light and matched the color of Harry's eyes almost exactly. The ring was obviously very expensive with real emeralds and silver twining and fitting itself around Harry's finger when he put it on.

He suddenly felt like his gifts had been inadequate. Draco had spent a lot of money on him and time thinking of what Harry would like, as well as taking a risk that Harry would want something like this. Harry examined the ring for another few seconds, smiling slightly. And he did like it. Harry blinked, suddenly thinking of something.

" _Hello_ ," Harry whispered in Parsletongue to the ring. Immediately, the snake head reared up, looking Harry in the face and hissing back its own greeting. His smile widened. He loved the ring.

Eventually, Harry headed downstairs. Almost everyone was settled down for breakfast, chatting happily.

"Good morning, Harry," Hermione smiled at him. "You're down awful late this morning."

"Am I?"

"No later than me," his voice made Harry jump, whirling around on his toes to look at him in surprised. Draco raised an eyebrow at Harry before his eyes flicked down to the ring on Harry's hand. His expression softened fractionally before he turned away.

"Thank you for the books, Harry." Draco said, his voice quiet and his face turned toward the table. Harry felt himself blush in spite of himself. "They were surprisingly good for someone who neither reads nor has any real knowledge of potions." Harry chuckled, seating himself next to Draco and taking no offence. The faint twitch of Draco's lips had given him away after all.


	10. Part 1: Chapter 10

**_Warning: N/A_**

Chapter 10- And Do You Hate Me Now

Draco woke up on Christmas morning with no real enthusiasm or expectation. His parents only ever gave him presents if they believed he had done something particularly worthwhile. And that did not include sneaking to an order safe house under their and Umbridge's noses, not that this was his fault, but they didn't see it that way. At least if the three howlers demanding he come home at _once_ were anything to go by. Draco had ignored them all; his father would give him hell for that when he got home, but Draco was of the firm belief that a summer beating was inevitable no matter _what_ he put in his school letters.

So, when he woke up on Christmas morning, he was a little surprised to have received anything that wasn't from Severus. He carefully opened the new package of dress robes, silver and black, without the fancy embroidery that his parents always prefer he wear and then tore off the wrapping for new potion and transfiguration textbooks. Potions because it was Severus and transfiguration because he had heard Draco complaining enough about it that this was his way of helping without helping. Draco smiled thinly at the books before turning back to the two wrapped presents in front of him.

They weren't addressed in Severus' careful scrawl. Instead, they were written in an untidy and careless hand that he knew immediately belonged to Harry. Draco sat for a minute in front of the presents, blinking. He'd never thought Harry would get him something. Sure, he'd spent a lot of time and money on Harry's present, but he didn't expect the sentiment to even be fully appreciated, much less returned.

He reached for the presents with trembling fingers, unwrapping several expensive potion textbooks. Draco sat back on his heels and just stared at them. One was full of high-level potions, some dangerous enough that not even Severus would let him make them unsupervised. He wondered if Harry knew that and believed in him enough not to hurt himself or had just bought a potions book. He knew which he preferred to believe.

Another was just a simple potions textbook, like one they'd see in school, but it was more advanced and expensive from a more well-known author. He turned it over in his hands, Harry couldn't have just picked it off a shelf somewhere, he would have had to talked to someone.

The third book was full of potions theory, some stuffy and boring but some a debate between pages, snippets of conversations between the greats. He had the urge to sit down and read some of the theory behind the most complex potions, to understand things that even Severus didn't know.

Eventually, Draco set aside the three potion books and picked up the last present Harry had wrapped for him. It was obviously another book, but for some reason he had seemed inclined to wrap it separately. As soon as Draco got the wrappings off, he understood why. It was a Muggle Mystery novel. He made a face and almost tossed the book aside but then hesitated. He _did_ like a good mystery and Harry _had_ given it to him for a reason, well, probably anyway. He thumbed through the pages. There was obviously romance, some action, drama, sword fights. He hesitantly set the book next to his new supply of potion books. He supposed it wouldn't _hurt_ him to read a little Muggle Mystery.

He smiled, no one _had_ to know after all.

* * *

Severus stopped by the house later that day. Everyone but Sirius Black was at the hospital cooing over Mr. Weasley and Draco figured he had timed his visit on purpose. He was sitting in the library, reading one of the new potion books that Harry had given him when Severus came in, his mouth tight in that way that Draco _knew_ meant trouble.

"Draco," He almost snapped, sweeping his cloak as he sat down.

"Severus," Draco answered, immediately sitting up straight in his chair and putting his book away. He wasn't about to be scolded for something stupid like posture or not paying attention just because Severus was so obviously agitated about something.

"Your parents aren't happy about your disappearance," Severus told him, and Draco resisted the urge to roll his eyes and say 'duh'. "I've done my best to smooth over their suspicions but if you continue on your current course, you won't be able to stay with them."

"I haven't even done anything for the order yet!" Draco answered.

"Being anything but enemies with Potter is enough. You know this, Draco, you know your parent's expectations of your behavior." Severus sighed gustily. "You need to decide what side you want to be on, and you need to decide what you're fighting for."

"I don't understand what you want from me," Draco frowned. "You've _never_ wanted me to become involved with The Dark Lord. You were the one who talked me out of believing in all that blood purity nonsense or worship of The Dark Lord."

"I know you've also never had any love for Potter," Severus answered. "Yet you seem more than enamored with him now. Which makes me question whether you've truly thought out your decision to switch sides."

"He doesn't even care about me." Draco muttered sullenly.

"No? And you, Draco? Do you care about him?" Severus' eyes flicked to the book next to Draco and then back. Draco resisted the urge to shift uncomfortably, there was no way Severus could know the book was from Harry. "If Potter is the only real reason you've switched sides then perhaps you've _not_ made the right choice after all?"

"He's not!" Draco's gaze snapped up to Severus. "And why are you acting like Harry's evil anyway; _you_ don't hate Harry even though you pretend to."

"Potter has a tendency to break everything he touches. You fall for him and it might just be the last thing you end up doing." Draco opened his mouth to protest but found he really didn't have anything to say, how could he argue with something he already knew to be true, something he had already warned himself of.

"Besides," Severus said, "this isn't about Potter, this is about _you,_ Draco. You need to make your own choices and you need to _think_ about the consequences."

" _I_ don't care about _him_." Draco snapped finally, glaring fiercely. "Is that what you want to hear?" Severus raised an eyebrow but before he could say anything the door opened. Sirius Black stepped in with Harry close behind him. Sirius Black looked defiant and while Harry just looked curious and uncomfortable. Harry shifted into the room, making his way toward Draco and then sitting next to him without hesitation. Sirius Black remained standing, watching the scene with jaded eyes.

"I requested to speak with Potter alone," Severus said, directing his glare at Sirius Black.

"I'm his Godfather," he answered. "And I don't see you ushering Malfoy out of the room."

"Because Mr. Malfoy is part of what I need to tell Potter."

"What?" Draco blinked, and Severus scowled over at him. Draco immediately cleared his face, resisting the urge to snap at Severus.

"The headmaster sent me to tell you that you will be spending one day a week studying Occlumency with Draco and me this term."

"Oh," Harry answered. His eyes flicked to Draco and then back to Severus, looking as if he wanted to argue but couldn't think of a good reason. "But…."

"Why can't Dumbledore teach Harry?" Sirius Black said. "Why you two?"

"Why does it matter?" Draco narrowed his eyes. "We're more than capable of teaching him."

"Indeed," Severus sighed as if he were being put upon. "Now, I expect you both every Monday at 6 o'clock in my office. If anyone asks you, Potter, are taking Remedial Potions and Mr. Malfoy is assisting you with them." Severus moved to stand, sweeping from the room with his cloak snapping behind him.

"Wait a moment," Sirius Black called, scurrying after his Godfather in a rather undignified method. Harry looked like he had been given the shock of his life time. He sat rigidly beside Draco, his shoulders tense as he looked at the far wall unblinkingly.

"You don't have to look so nervous," Draco said. "Severus won't eat you, you know."

"Says you," Harry turned his head to focus wide green eyes on Draco. "He _hates_ me."

"Severus hates _everyone_." Draco rolled his eyes. "You just have to know how to deal with him, is all."

"But-," Harry started, but a loud crash from the hallway interrupted him. Harry and Draco exchanged a nervous look before bolting to the door. Sirius Black had his wand drawn on Severus, roaring something about being a coward while Severus stood there, calm as night and looking at him as if he had lost his mind. "Sirius!" Harry shouted, "Sirius, NO!" He promptly stepped between the two men, putting himself in the path of any hostile spells that might be cast.

"Get out of the way, Harry," Sirius gave him a shove, but Harry wouldn't budge. Draco took three long strides and planted himself in front of his Godfather.

"This is how you plan to win the war?" He asked. "By acting out old childhood grudges?" Severus sneered at him before turning on his heel and wheeling out of the house, slamming the door solidly behind him. Draco sighed deeply but knew Severus would be fine by tomorrow. He always ran away when he knew he was in the wrong. When Severus thought he was right, he would stick around and tell you about your faults even if he knew he would never win.

* * *

The rest of the holiday was uneventful, except for when Mr. Weasley was released from hospital. Draco spent most of that day locked in his room. He didn't need to be included in a celebration he had no real part of.

Eventually, the day came that had them packing into the Night Bus and transporting across London and straight into Hogsmeade. Which Draco found especially paranoid, but he wasn't about to complain about not having to ride the train. Finally, he was down in the dungeons with the whole of Slytherin treating him as if he had scrawled the word _traitor_ across his forehead. He sighed, wanting to kick himself. How had he not seen this coming?

"So," Pansy stepped up to him, effectively blocking Draco's way to the stairs. "What have you been up to Draco? No one's seen you all break."

"Oh, you know." He checked his nails, buffing a particularly immaculate spot. "I've been busy."

"Funny," Theodore Nott said. He was leaning over a chess game, barely looking up at Draco. "You seem to have become _busy_ the same time that Potter and the Weasleys all disappeared."

"Really?" Draco sighed. "What a coincidence, I shall have to look into this." He tried to step up the stairs, but Pansy angled herself, so she was effectively in his way.

"Now, Draco," she fluttered her eyelids. "You didn't expect us to believe that, did you?"

"I think hanging out with Gryffindorks is lowering your intelligence!" Blaise Zabini smirked, shifting around Nott to look at Draco."

"Oh, very clever," Draco sneered and rolled his eyes. "As if I would ever waste my time chumming around with Gryffindors. Now, if you'll excuse me." He almost shoved Pansy out of the way and headed up to his room. He could tell he hadn't satisfied his housemates, the problem was he just wasn't ready to side infinitely either way. Severus was right, he had to make the decision about switching sides based on what _he_ wanted, not based on his strange hormonal attraction to Harry Potter of all people. On the other hand, he really didn't think he could go back to living the lie he'd been living before Harry had waltzed in and disrupted his life.

* * *

The next day when 6 o'clock rolled around, Draco found himself sitting in Severus' private rooms, perched on a desk and waiting for Harry to show up. He sighed to himself, these days he always seemed to be waiting for Harry.

"You're late," Severus snapped as soon as the door began to swing open. Harry skittered nervously, his eyes flickering between Severus and Draco.

"I lost track of time."

"20 points from Gryffindor," Severus' lip curled. "And I expect you to show more care with you studies in the future, do you understand?"

"Yes."

"You will address me as 'sir' or 'professor,' Potter."

"Yes…. Sir." Harry answered, gritting his teeth against his frustration. Draco sighed, resisting the temptation to put his face in his hands and give up now. Severus was _already_ riling Harry up and Harry was _already_ rising to the bait and they hadn't even started yet.

"Now, Occlumency-," Severus began his lecture, but Draco cleared his throat and Severus turned his dark eyed glare on him instead of Harry. "Yes, Mr. Malfoy?"

"I think we all understand the basics of Occlumency and Legilimecy, isn't that correct, Potter?" Draco asked, ignoring Severus completely. Harry nodded and then hesitated, obviously conflicted on whether he should ask his question of not. "Just ask Potter," Draco sighed. "Ignorance won't help you now." Harry scowled, but asked his question.

"I don't understand how Voldemort-."

" _Don't say his name!"_ Severus immediately snapped. Draco flinched, his hands tensing on his knees. There was a tense silence in which Draco was able to hear every beat of his heart. Severus was most of the reason why Draco himself was terrified to say The Dark Lord's name aloud. Something about it had scared Severus badly enough that he always reacted this way and whatever was enough to scare Severus that bad wasn't something Draco felt he was qualified to deal with. Harry, however, set his teeth and glared at Severus, unwilling to back down.

"Professor Dumbledore says his name," Harry said finally and Severus' jaw seemed to tighten even more, as if Harry had mortally offended him by uttering the words.

"Dumbledore is an extremely powerful wizard," Severus said. He opened his mouth to say more but Draco felt it was time to interrupt their staring contest. That was, most probably what he was here for after all.

"What were you curious about, Potter?" Draco asked, ignoring the way Severus turned his head around and locked his dark eyed glare on him.

"How can _Voldemort_ ," Draco _felt_ his Godfather flinch when Harry said the name, though _he_ refused to give something so insubstantial power over him. "Use Ligilimency on me when he's so far away? I thought you said it required eye-contact?"

"A good question." Draco answered, and then turned his eyes to Severus because frankly, _he_ had no idea of the answer.

"It appears that instead of killing you, the curse that The Dark Lord cast when you were a baby has forged a kind of bond between the two of you." Severus' lips curled as he began to pace. Draco wasn't sure how he moved, he could barely breathe past the very idea of The Dark Lord crawling around inside Harry's mind and- "We believe the connection is strongest when you are your most relaxed and vulnerable, such as asleep. And as such, you are able to share The Dark Lord's thoughts and emotions." Severus ceased his pacing and focused his gaze on Harry. "I am sure you appreciate why this must stop."

"If he tries to take control of the connection and I don't know how to defend myself…" Harry let the thought trail off. It didn't _need_ to be said. Draco swallowed harshly. He wanted to cross the space between them and crush Harry to his chest and tell him nothing would ever hurt him. But the words would be hollow, because The Dark Lord _could_ hurt Harry. No, he could do more than hurt Harry. And keeping Harry safe was more important that indulging Draco's silly desires.

Besides, Draco shifted, clasping his hands on his thighs to hide the shaking, it wasn't like Harry would _welcome_ his protection anyway. Only the weak needed to be comforted in such a way.

"Now," Severus said. "Stand in the center of the room and prepare yourself, Potter. Mr. Malfoy remain where you are." Harry and Severus positioned themselves, so they were standing opposite each other in the center of the room. Severus raised his wand, so it was pointing right between Harry's eyebrows. Harry tensed, and Draco felt the urge to jump between them, even though he _knew_ Severus wouldn't hurt Harry. "You may use your wand to attempt to disarm me, or to defend yourself in any other way you can think of." Severus flicked his eyes toward Draco. "You will observe and comment when we have finished each time, but you will not help, do you understand?" Draco nodded, tapping his forefinger against his thigh.

"What are you going to do?" Harry asked, eyeing Severus' wand.

"I am going to attempt to break your mind. Draco will also enter your mind and watch all we achieve but he will not interfere. He is only here to give you guide points on what you could do better and assess your mental stability after each attempt," there was a minute shift in the way Severus held his wand that left Draco with just enough time to prepare himself. "Now, prepare yourself…. _Legilimens!"_

Draco threw his mind away from his body, dancing after Severus and into Harry's mind. He sighed at the complete lack of defenses around Harry's mind. It was a wonder The Dark Lord hadn't _already_ possessed him.

He saw a 5-year-old Harry, with the same unruly hair and large spectacles slipping off his face. Draco's heart beat with affection and then he turned his face away and saw how the little boy's face was twisted with jealousy. The 5-year-old Harry was watching a fat muggle boy ride a shining red bicycle, laughing and point at Harry as if…. Suddenly Harry was nine, still gangly and skinny and looking as if he was running for his life from a large pit bull that was chasing him half up a tree. Draco's heart swelled with sympathy as he saw a group a very fat muggles watching and laughing and knew instinctively that they were _supposed_ to be Harry's family…. Then Harry was 11, shoving away Draco's hand with something close to disgusted, as he silently thought of how Draco's superior attitude had reminded him of his horrible, hateful cousin. Draco shivered, no wonder Harry had rejected him… Then Harry was in the hospital ward, sitting beside Hermione, holding her hand as they waited for the failed cat Polyjuice to wear off and Draco blinked at the strange rose tint that invaded that memory. There was nothing particularly special about it, except that Harry was content simply because he was with a friend. And for the first time, Draco realized that maybe Harry knew something about happiness and love that he didn't…. Harry was standing on the edge of a lake, the only defense between a hundred dementors and his Godfather. No concern for his own safety. Harry only wanted to protect Sirius Black, even though he had wanted the man dead not 12 hours ago. And Draco's heart throbbed as he realized that Harry _definitely_ knew something about love that he didn't…. Harry was standing under a mistletoe, staring at Cho. She was half smiling, half crying as tears ran down the already established tear tracks on her face. She left the impression of beauty stamped on Harry's mind as their lips touched. And Draco's heart broke as he suddenly remembered that Harry's definition of love didn't include him.

 _No,_ Harry's voice echoes through their three connected minds. _You're not watching that, you're not watching it, it's private._

Draco felt his ears pop as they returned to Severus' office. Harry was on the ground, holding one knee as if he had hit it on something. It was entirely possible he had. Severus was rubbing a welt on his wrist that could only have been caused by a stinging hex. And Draco… Draco hadn't moved physically but he felt like shards of broken glass had taken up residence in his chest making it horribly impossible to breathe. Draco closed his eyes, bringing his feet up and underneath himself as Severus began to tell Potter that it hadn't been that bad for a first attempt, and Potter picked himself up off the floor.

"You let your emotions rule you too much," Draco said finally, and was pleased that there was no emotion in his voice. "Even if he gets in your mind, he shouldn't be able to read you so much."

"Mr. Malfoy is correct," Severus said. "Clear your mind, Potter. Let go of your emotions…"

"But Draco said-," Potter immediately began to protest.

"There are many ways to practice Occlumency." Severus sighed. "The way Mr. Malfoy employs Occlumency is indeed the most effective but also takes the most time to master. You, however, do not have the self-discipline or the cunning to use such a technique. You will need to rely on brute Gryffindor strength alone."

"But-," Potter looked at Draco, silently asking him for support. Draco just turned his face away, unable to meet those green eyes.

"We will try again," Severus raised his wand. _"Legilimens."_

Harry was standing in front of the dragon for the Triwizard's tournament, wishing he was anywhere else and trying desperately not to be afraid…. He was in front of an enchanted mirror, two people waving at him. There was such hope shinning on his face that they could only be his parents…. He was laying atop Cedric Diggory, looking into blank dead eyes and _trying_ so hard not to feel guilty.

"NOOOOOO!" Harry was yelling. He was on his knees this time, his face buried in his hands and about in inch away from sobbing his lungs out.

"Get up!" Severus snapped. He began reaching for Harry, but Draco was suddenly there, slapping Severus' hand away and pulling Harry toward him.

"I'm _trying_ ," Harry said, buried in Draco's chest and not taking his head out of his hands. "I _am_."

"Shh," Draco answered, smoothing his hair down. "Shh, I know. No one masters Occlumency in a day."

"Do _not_ baby him, Draco." Severus said. "If he insists on wearing his heart on his sleeve like the fool he is, then The Dark Lord _will_ destroy him."

"Give him a minute, Severus." Draco snapped back, whirling around to face his Godfather. He planted his feet in front of Harry, feeling how Harry's trembling hands clamped down on his robes. "You _know_ no one can just take their mind being invaded without rest."

"Your sympathy will be his doom." Severus answered, raising his wand. "Get out of the way _now._ "

"Just give him a _minute,_ damn you!"

"I'm fine," Harry said, releasing Draco's robes. He stepped around Draco, looking straight over at Severus, his chin raised and eyes defiant. "I want to go again."

" _Legilimens_." Severus immediately ground out.

Harry was 11, standing at the front door of a stuffy and perfectly normal muggle front door watching a very fat man hammer a small slit in the door shut. Draco almost nodded approvingly, better to get rid of crazy holes in the door _before_ they became a problem… He was running down a windowless passage with Mr. Weasley right next to him…. Suddenly the memories warped, and Harry was drawing nearer and nearer to a plain black door, expecting, _wanting_ to go through it, but then Mr. Weasley dragged him off the wrong way and-

"I KNOW! I KNOW!" Harry exclaimed, slamming the three of them back into their respective bodies. Potter was on all fours, looking up at Severus with a triumphant expression. But Draco could tell Severus had released the spell, Potter hadn't pushed them out. "I've just realized…" Potter whispered, almost as if he were talking to himself. Draco exchange a nervous look with Severus, hopping he hadn't just broken Harry Potter's mind.

"Potter-," Draco stepped forward.

"What's in the Department of Mysteries?" Potter asked suddenly.

"What did you say?" Severus wheeled.

"Because," Potter answered, watching Severus' face with satisfaction. "I've been dreaming of that corridor for months and-."

"You _what!?"_ Draco would have howled, except Malfoy's did not howl. "You've been letting The Dark Lord into your mind for _months_ and you're just now telling us?"

"I…" Potter's face visibly paled as he seemed to realize the implication behind Draco's words. "I didn't think." His hand reached up, his fingers fumbling and then beginning to rub his scar as if it was paining him.

"Potter," Severus told him, his voice severe. "You need not concern yourself with The Department of Mysteries, do you understand?"

"But Draco knows." Potter answered.

"And I'm sure Draco knows many things you don't need to."

"But he said he would tell me."

"Did he now?" Severus turned cold eyes on him.

"He deserved to know." Draco answered, refusing to drop his gaze.

"That is _not_ for you to decide," Severus gridded his teeth. "Dumbledore-," Harry's sudden cry of pain interrupted his words. He was bent over himself, holding his hands over his scar and blinking rapidly as if he were no longer in room with them. "Potter?" Severus called, taking a step closer. Then Harry straightened, focusing his bright green eyes on Severus with a mixture of pain and fear. Draco noticed his hands were trembling as he slowly lowered them back to his side.

"What happened?" Draco asked, taking a step forward before he could stop himself.

"He's happy. He's really happy."

"I think that's all for today." Severus said, clearing his throat. Draco didn't miss the way he shivered when Potter spoke.

"He deserves to know," Draco repeated when Potter was gone. "You can't keep him in the dark, sooner or later, he's going to do something stupid and-."

"If you tell him what's hidden in The Department of Mysteries he'll run after it that much sooner," Severus scowled. "No one can resist the temptation to know their own fate."

"But-."

"You're letting your emotions for Potter blind you, Draco," Severus snapped. "If he is to succeed, he needs to be strong enough to do so. Not coddled to the point of fearing danger." Draco scowled, refusing to say anything to confirm Severus but also not knowing how to negate him.


	11. Part 1: Chapter 11

**_Warning: This chapter will switch viewpoints, also some text from original book._**

Chapter 11- And Can You Feel My Pain

Harry waited for Draco on the outside of Severus' door. He didn't wait a horribly long time, but when Draco came out, he looked tired. His grey eyes were dropped to the ground and he almost stumbled when he closed the door behind him.

"Draco," Harry said, stepping toward him. Draco flinched, turning to Harry with wide startled eyes.

"What are you doing here?" He asked. "Why didn't you go to bed?"

"I just…" Harry stared at him; he didn't know what to say. He remembered Draco's presence in his mind like a ghost fluttering between branches of a tree, there but not there. He wasn't exactly sure what Draco had seen and he was terrified to ask. What if he'd seen the memory of Cho and had…

He remembered Draco turning his face away when Snape insulted him, refusing to even look at him. Harry twisted the silver and emerald ring around his finger, feeling the familiar twist of his heart. He wanted to talk to Draco, but he had no idea what to say to get rid of that closed look on his face.

"What am I supposed to do?" He asked.

"It just takes time, Potter," Draco sighed. "Don't get impatient."

"But Severus-."

"Severus is doing what he's supposed to." Draco snapped back. "Don't be lazy, Potter. Control yourself." Harry stared at him, wide-eyed. Draco had defended him; he had stood in front of him and let him take a breath when Severus had refused to. Why was he suddenly yelling at him now?

"What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing is wrong with me," Draco snapped. He started to step away, and anger shot through Harry. "I just want you to leave me alone."

"Why are you even helping me?" Harry called, anger and hurt pulsing through him. "You obviously don't want to." Draco hesitated, his robes swishing on the floor as he seemed to consider Harry's question.

"I made you a promise that I wouldn't leave until you ordered me away." Draco answered, and Harry was anything but satisfied with that.

"You're such a bloody twat," Harry said, and Draco turned to him, looking shocked. "If you don't want to be here, leave. No one's making you be here. Stop pretending to care if you don't." Draco stared, his silver-grey eyes wide with shock and something close to hurt.

"Pretending?" He asked, his voice so low Harry almost missed it. "Is that what you think?" He stepped forward, crossing over until his chest was brushing Harry's. And his eyes were so open and angry and full of desire, they were silver, and Harry couldn't-wouldn't look away.

"Why else do you act like this?" Harry breathed.

"You are such a fucking idiot, Harry Potter," Draco answered. And then he was leaning forward, his lips connecting with Harry's. He gasped, opening his mouth and throwing his arms around Draco's neck to pull him deeper. Draco obliged, plunging his tongue into his mouth to taste every bit of him that he possibly could.

And then somehow, they were on the ground, Draco's mouth covering Harry's and his tongue licking and sucking, and Harry thought he heard a whine and somehow knew it came from himself. His arms came up around Draco's back, clutching at his robes, twining his tongue around Draco's with an almost savage desperation.

Then it was over. The door to Severus' door was opened and Draco was scrambling away, his silver-grey eyes wide, his hair askew, and his lips swollen. He flicked his gaze to the door before turning on his heel and almost sprinting away from Harry.

"What are you still doing here?" Severus snapped at Harry, of course not seeing Draco's fleeing body. Harry just sighed.

* * *

Harry sat at breakfast the next morning, listening to Hermione read the _Prophet_ and telling them about the mass breakout from Azkaban, as if his life could get any worse. At least that answered his question about why Voldemort had been so happy last night.

"You're on probation!"Ron suddenly hissed. Harry flinched, looking up at his friend. Hagrid was now standing beside them and Hermione was gone.

"What?" Harry asked. "Umbridge put you on probation?" Hagrid shrugged, mumbling something about rubbing chili powder on salamanders and stumbled off. Harry blinked, turning his head in a slow circle and wondering what he'd missed. "Where's Hermione?"

"Said something about sending a letter." Ron waved a hand dismissively and turned back to his bacon.

Harry sighed, poking at his own breakfast and wishing he had an appetite. His eyes flicked up to the Slytherin table where Draco was firmly ignoring him, keeping his eyes on Pansy and then his food and then Pansy. His silver-grey eyes didn't so much as flicker in Harry's direction. Though as Harry watched, Draco cleared his plate and stood from his table, heading for the doors of the Great Hall with a brisk pace.

"Hey, Ron," Harry said, "I'll meet you at class." He stood before Ron could answered, almost jogging after Draco. He spotted the pale hair heading down a corridor and started down that direction. He was only about 5 feet away when Draco turned over his shoulder and locked eyes with Harry, his silver-grey eyes unreadable. He hesitated, flicked his gaze around and then stopped, half-turning his body as if waiting. Harry sped up his steps, surprised and eager that Draco was willing to talk to him.

"Hi, Harry," a voice said from behind him. He jumped, whirling around to find Cho.

"Oh, hey, Cho," Harry turned back around, but he saw no sign of Draco.

"Had a good Christmas?" Cho asked, moving around so he was facing her again.

"What?" He blinked looking down at her for a minute before registering what she'd asked. "Oh, yeah, it was ok. How was yours?"

"Quiet," she said. He looked over her shoulder again, trying to spot that reflective pale hair. Draco _couldn't_ have gotten too far, maybe he had just turned a corner and was waiting or Harry there. Harry started to take a step and then realized Cho was talking again. "...for the Hogsmeade trip this month?"

"Hogsmeade trip?" He blinked at her, and then turned back to looking for Draco, sure he was just missing him somewhere. "No?"

"Yeah," she chuckled, sounding nervous. He turned to her in defeat, where ever Draco had gone, Harry doubted he'd talk to Harry again. "...day." Cho finished.

"Cool," he answered, unsure what she had been talking about. They looked at each other for a moment, Cho looking as if she was expecting something from him though he couldn't for the life of him understand what.

"So, I was wondering if you," she blushed intensely, "maybe you wanted to go with me?" He stared. Go with her where? But she was looking at him expectantly and he just wanted her to go _away_ without dealing with a crying girl.

"Sure," he forced a smile. "I'd love to."

"Oooh, Great!" She smiled widely, giggling in that girly way that he used to find attractive. "I'll see you on Valentine's day then." She bounded off, leaving Harry blinking after her about as confused as he ever was.

"Valentine's day?" He muttered.

* * *

Harry's scar hurt all the time now. He would get impressions of emotions that weren't his own and the dreams were now occurring every night. It was almost as if the lessons were doing more harm than good. He wanted to tell someone, but he didn't trust Snape and Draco was thoroughly avoiding him now.

Hermione and Ron weren't helpful. Ron wanted to blame everything on Snape and Draco, but Harry _knew_ it wasn't their fault. He could tell they were just as worried about Voldemort having access to his mind as he was, they just didn't know how to help him more than they already were.

Eventually February rolled around, leaving the mess that was January behind alarmingly fast for Harry's taste. He still had no idea how to get Draco to talk to him, or how to succeed at Occlumency or how to convince Cho that he wasn't interested in her, especially after he'd agreed to go out with her to Hogsmeade on Valentine's day.

" _Finally_ ," Hermione said, clutching a letter in her hands. She turned to Harry with an expectant grin. "I know you'll be busy pretending to not look at Draco all day, but can you meet me at The Three Broomstick's around midday?"

"Well, actually," Harry answered. "I'm going out with Cho today."

" _What?"_ Ron choked on his bacon.

"I thought you weren't interested in her anymore?" Hermione asked, her smile sweet and deadly. "Or have I missed something important?"

"I, uh, well, she asked and I…"

"Ah," Hermione's smile widened. "So, you're not only leading her on but sending Draco mixed signals."

"Draco?" Harry answered, slapping Ron on the back as he continued to make gagging noises. "What does this have to do with Draco?"

"What doesn't Draco have to do with this?"

"Seriously, mate," Ron finally managed to swallow his bacon. "You need to decide who you want."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Harry snapped, narrowing his eyes and deciding he much preferred it when Ron was choking.

"It's just, we thought you liked Draco," Hermione said. "Did something else happen?"

"You mean besides him not returning my feelings?" Harry scowled at them.

"Oh, Harry, please," Hermione rolled her eyes. "You don't really believe that nonsense, do you?" Harry just glared at her. "Even Ron has to admit that Draco cares about _you_ if no one else," Ron picked at his bacon, and Hermione elbowed him.

"Right, yeah." He jerked. "You know, I think I just remembered, we have a Quidditch practice all day. I can't even go to Hogsmeade. Blimey, better not be late." He waved and hurried to the door. Hermione scowled after him for a minute before turning back to Harry.

"So, what's the _real_ problem?"

"I just…" He shook his head to clear it. He didn't want to think about Draco, there wasn't a point. "It's nothing. Don't worry about it." He stood from the table. "I'll see you around midday." He hurried after Ron, trying to get away from Hermione's eyes boring into his back as fast as possible.

* * *

Draco was sitting in the back of the library with his feet propped up and pretending to read a book. He was actually looking out the window and watching people leave. He caught sight of Potter's unruly hair as he passed the Great Doors immediately. Of course, Cho Chang was right by his side, standing so close she could have been holding his hand. He turned his face away as he saw Chang start laughing at something Potter had said.

Draco had no desire to be harassed by Pansy all day at Hogsmeade, nor did he have the desire to spend the whole day watching for Potter and Chang out of the corner of his eye when it was obvious Potter didn't give _him_ a second thought. He raised a hand to his lips before dropping them back down again; he just wished it didn't hurt so bloody much.

The sound of approaching footsteps brought him out of his own mind. He quickly turned away from the window, making a show of immersing himself in his book. That was until Granger yanked it out of his hand and slammed it shut.

"Really," he sighed. _"That_ was just rude."

"Why are you and Harry always fighting?" She asked, ignoring him.

"What?" He asked, mask dropping surprise.

"You know he's on a date with Cho today even though he doesn't much like her?" She said casually, sitting across from him and folding her hands. "Mind telling me why he's so convinced he has no chance with you?"

"What are you talking about?" Draco sneered and reached for his book. Granger let him take it, only scowling at him marginally. "He _doesn't_ have a chance with me."

"Um, but you _like_ him."

"And I'm apparently shagging Pansy," Draco answered, scowling into his book. He tried to stop himself, but the words came tumbling out of him. He just wanted someone to understand and it seemed like that someone would be Granger. Much as he despised the idea.

"You're shagging Pansy," she gasped.

"Of course not," He wrinkled his nose just _thinking_ about it. _"I_ have much better taste than that. Potter just _thinks_ I am." He paused, taking in Granger's confused expression. He sighed, wondering how she could be so slow. "Notice how he doesn't seem to care that I might be sleeping with someone else."

"And this is why you two don't have a chance?" She raised an eyebrow, "because Harry _thinks_ you're shagging Pansy."

"No," Draco flipped a page in his book even though he'd not read a word on the page. But still appearances had to be kept. "Potter doesn't have a chance because he didn't _care_ that I was shagging Pansy while simultaneously jumping him in hallways."

"Um," Granger coughed loudly, holding her hand up as if to hide a smile. "You two have some serious problems."

"Thank you," Draco controlled his snap. "I didn't know that."

"Some serious _communication_ problems." Granger let her laugh out, loud and obnoxious. Draco glared at her, feeling cheated. This conversation had gone nowhere he'd thought it should have.

"Aren't you supposed to be smart or something?" He asked.

* * *

Cho had led Harry through a couple different shops, down the streets of Hogsmeade, and into a tea shop that was decorated with little hearts and had couples sitting at tables everywhere. They had pretty much spent the whole day staring at each other and trying to think of something to say. Harry was intensely uncomfortable, wishing he had never agreed to go out with her.

"So, um," Harry shifted nervously. "I have to meet Hermione at The Three Broomsticks today."

"You're meeting Hermione Granger today?"

"Yeah, well…" he trailed off. That sat in silence for another few minutes, Cho staring at a couple off to their left who were kissing over their sugar bowl.

"I came here last year with Cedric, you know." She said. Harry repressed his urge to groan, why did she _always_ want to talk about Cedric. He was beginning to wonder if she even cared about him or if she just cared about his connection to Cedric.

"Look, Cho," he pulled several galleons out of his pockets, "I really have to meet Hermione." He put them on the table, moving to stand. "It was nice hanging out with you, I'll see you later."

"But-," she stood with him, her eyes going wide. He looked into them, wondering how he had ever thought they were beautiful when he could be looking into the grey that was Draco Malfoy. "You're ditching me for Hermione Granger?"

"Yeah, well…" His voice trailed off. "I'll see you later." He repeated lamely, rushing to get out of the coffee shop.

Harry headed in the direction of The Three Broomsticks and stopped short when he stepped inside. Hermione was sitting in a booth with Rita Skeeter. He took a deep breath and headed toward them, hoping he hadn't just traded one torture for another.

* * *

They were heading back to Hogwarts in silence. Harry could tell Hermione wanted to ask him questions, but she was restraining herself. He was glad, it was hard enough to talk about the night Cedric had died without also being questioned about his love life. But he also supposed he wanted to talk to _someone_ about it.

"It was horrible." He told her. "My date with Cho."

"Yeah?" Hermione asked.

"We don't have anything in common." He laughed weakly. "I don't even know why I ever liked her." There was a beat before she answered.

"I noticed you didn't tell Skeeter you saw Lucius Malfoy the night Voldemort rose." She said, and Harry shrugged. He didn't _really_ have an answer to that except he didn't want to hurt Draco by getting his father thrown in jail. He didn't know if Draco would forgive him that, and he couldn't find it in himself to chance it.

"You know, he's not shagging Pansy." Hermione said suddenly. Harry stared at her, so shocked he stopped walking. "Really, Harry," she rolled her eyes. "I can't believe you thought he was."

"But…" He blinked. "But she's always hanging off him…and… He didn't deny it…."

"I talked to him after you left this morning."

"You…" Harry blinked again. The idea of Hermione and Draco having a civil conversation seemed so foreign to him, so horribly out of his reach. "He talked to you? About feeling?"

"Yes, Harry. Draco Malfoy talked to me." Hermione answered in an exaggerated fashion, rolling her eyes again. Then her gaze turned thoughtful. "You know, he's really not so bad once you look past his prickliness. Like when you know he's not actually trying to hurt you, he's actually rather… I don't know, not charming exactly but…" she hesitated, thinking as Harry just stare at her somewhere between shock, jealous, and wonder. Hermione's gaze snapped back to him and she blushed. "Well, I suppose that's not important. Draco said, he was upset with you because you didn't seem to care that he was shagging both you and Pansy."

"But you just said-."

"Then," Hermione continued in a matter a fact voice, "he was quick to inform me that he was in fact _not_ shagging Pansy. The only person he was 'jumping in the corridors' was you." She finished, eyes shining with mirth.

"It's not funny, Hermione!" Harry said.

"Of course, it is!" She answered. "Do you know how stupid you've both been? Being mad because of such a petty misunderstanding."

"But-."

"Don't you understand, Harry, go to Draco, tell him the truth. That you _do_ care. That you were just pretending not to. That you just went out with Cho because you thought he didn't care about you." Harry looked at her a long moment before frowning and moving forward, his thoughts racing as they continued on their way.


	12. Part 1: Chapter 12

**_Warning: Some text from the original book._**

Chapter 12- And I'm Coming to You

Potter had been trying to get Draco alone for the entire week after her escapade with that horrible, completely unattractive bint Chang. Seriously, Draco couldn't imagine what anyone would see in her, much less someone who had Draco Malfoy's attention. Not, Draco told himself firmly, that Potter had his attention.

However, the Monday after Potter's date, Draco was forced to consider the possibility that it would have been better to just let Potter say what he needed to say. Maybe that way Draco could talk him out of his own stupidity.

It started in the middle of breakfast with an owl swooping down in front of a very confused Harry Potter. It was strange enough that Potter had got a letter, but the fact that he was confused caused everyone else to stop what they were doing to watch him. Draco sighed, drawing the attention of Pansy, but he just jerked his chin at Potter, sneering and she turned away with a skeptical look.

Finally, Potter opened his letter, reading through the article with shining eyes. Draco shoved down the jealous feelings beginning to bubble up in his chest. Who was writing Harry that he looked like that? Then Potter suddenly looked up, meeting Draco's gaze easily. Draco raised an eyebrow before he could help himself, and Potter held up an edition of… The Quibbler...? And Draco forced the groan back, what had he gotten himself into this time.

"Mr. Potter," Umbridge said, having finally arrived at the scene. She began to question him, though most of his words were lost to Draco. He held out the paper to her and Draco's eyes widened, sensing an incoming disaster. He flicked his wand under the table as the entire great hall fell silent in anticipation of the incoming argument. "Are you trying to make me seem like a fool, Mr. Potter?" Umbridge snapped. "This is blank. There is no interview here."

"What?" Potter blinked. "But-."

"Professor Umbridge?" Draco sprang up. Umbridge turned toward him in surprise, followed by every other eye in the room. And the confusion cleared from Harry's face, replaced by a rueful twitch of his lips. "I had a question about the reading assignment you gave us and was wondering if you could help me?" She blinked once, twice, three times before she was able to recover herself.

"I- of course, Mr. Malfoy. If you'll follow me." She set off toward the doors of the great hall at a brisk pace, leaving Draco to follow behind her. Though he did stop at the door to throw Potter a sharp glare. Potter just smiled at him.

It took Draco longer than he thought possible to get away from Umbridge. She talked about Defense of Dark Arts and how it should be taught. She talked about changed in the Ministry. She talked about Draco's father. She complained about Potter.

Finally, Draco managed to slip away, snatching her confiscated Quibbler off her desk and fleeing out the door before she could think to say anything else to him. He flicked his wand, casting the spell to reverse his previous one and blinked at the page.

HARRY POTTER SPEAKS OUT AT LAST:  
THE TRUTH ABOUT HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED  
AND THE NIGHT I SAW HIM RETURN

Draco groaned, resisting the temptation to find Potter and smack him upside the head with the paper in his hand. On one hand, what he had done was incredibly brave. It couldn't have been easy to talk about what had happened to him. On the other, why had he had to. It wasn't like he owed it to anyone to put himself through that pain. Besides, the fact that he was just in deeper shite now with Umbridge because of his stupid morals.

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose, resisting the urge to bang his head against the wall. He didn't even know why he cared anymore. It was as if he was _trying_ to drive himself insane. Draco gave into the temptation and banged his forehead against the wall in front of him.

* * *

Potter was even worse than usual that night in Occlumency. His mind was unfocused, even when Severus broke through it was just a haze of images leading down a spiral path that made little to no sense. The only reoccurring image was the door in The Department of Mysteries. Draco could sense Harry's desire to see what was on the other side and he knew Severus was just as frustrated with this as Draco was.

"You're not even trying," Severus snapped, his limited patience finally breaking. Draco winced, wishing Severus had a different teaching technique than yelling. Not that he strictly blamed him; he was tired. What with pretending to be The Dark Lord's lapdog, appeasing Draco's parents, dealing with the Order, teaching potions, and trying to help Potter in his free time. Draco wondered just how long it would take Severus to snap.

"I am," Harry answered, though the words were hollow, and Draco knew he was tired too. They all were. They had been at this for months with little to no results, in fact it almost seemed as if it was making Harry's mind more open.

"Professor," Draco interrupted. "I think we should be done for tonight."

"Draco," Severus immediately turned his impatient fury on Draco.

"Severus," Draco said. "We're getting nowhere. We need sleep and a different approach." Severus' shoulders tensed for three heartbeats before they dropped. He nodded stiffly, going to sit behind his desk with a controlled air that Draco knew masked his real exhaustion.

"Just get out." He said flatly. Potter hesitated, looking at Severus with disbelief before turning to Draco with a hopeful look in his distracting green eyes. And Draco was lost. He wanted to talk to Harry. He wanted to hold him and taste his lips and feel his muscles move under him. And he had the right, didn't he? They had never officially ended their trysts. He shook himself, the problem wasn't the physical, it was the feelings behind it.

"Let's go, Potter." He said, his voice low and emotionless. He watched Potter's shoulders fall and ignored the twinge that stabbed through him. He shut the door to Severus' classroom, leaving him alone in the hallway with Potter and the electric current that always seemed to accompany them when they were alone. "Well," Draco said, turning toward the Slytherin commons. "See you next Monday, Potter."

"Draco, wait." Potter's voice called. A hand closed around Draco's elbow, wrenching him a step back and half around. Draco retained his cool expression with superhuman effort, trying desperately to ignore the sparks of heat that Harry's hand on his arm was doing to his libido.

"Yes?" He raised an eyebrow, impressed at his own ability to keep his voice level and empty.

"I…" Harry trailed off, opening and closing his mouth like a confused fish. "I just…" His eyes locked on Draco's, dazzling green making it hard to think, hard to want to pull away. "I just wanted to say goodnight." Potter said finally, dropping his arm.

Draco blinked, that was all? Then he scowled, the coward had chickened out of what he was actually going to say.

"Yes, well," Draco straighten his robes, casting Potter a haughty look. "Rest assured, I will. Very good without you." Potter flinched at the implication of Draco's words.

"Draco-," he started and then he collapsed. Draco rushed forward, catching him a second before his head hit the ground.

"Harry!?" Draco gasped, cradling the other boy in his arms. His eyes were flittering as if he were having some kind of dream or vision but otherwise, he was limp, unresponsive. "Harry?" Draco tried again, shaking his shoulders this time as pure horror rooted itself deep inside him. This wasn't allowed to happen. It wasn't. "Wake up! You have to wake up!" They had tried so hard to make sure this didn't happen.

Suddenly Harry gasped, wrenching his eyes open to reveal not the alluring green that stunned Draco every time he saw them but the red snake eyes of The Dark Lord himself. Draco cried out, clutching Harry, his Harry, and blinking back the wetness behind his eyes. He would not cry.

"No, no, no," Draco chanted. He reached down, Harry's scar was blazing against Draco's fingertips. "Harry, you have to snap out of it!" Draco shook him again. "Come on, come back to me!" Harry's body convulsed but otherwise didn't move. He clutched Harry closer to him. "No," he howled, "no, you can't have him!" Harry couldn't be gone, he couldn't. Draco couldn't... He didn't know how to breathe without him, much less… "Harry..." Draco whispered, pressing his face into Harry's feathery soft black hair, the hair that never laid right and always made Draco want to touch and feel. The hair that he might never get the chance to feel again.

"NOOOOO!" Harry suddenly yelled, sitting up so fast he knocked into Draco and sent them both sprawling against the floor with limbs tangled together. Harry had his face pressed into Draco's neck and his arms wrapped around him, shivering as if he had just been ducked in ice water. There were three beats of silence before Draco worked up the courage to ask the question he didn't want the answer to.

"Harry?" He asked, his voice shaking almost as violently as Harry's body was. "Harry, what happened?"

"He made a mistake." Harry whispered, his lips brushing against Draco's throat. "He was given the wrong information but he's back on the right track now."

"Harry-."

"I _was_ Voldemort, Draco," Harry shivered against him. "Draco, I can't control myself. I can't do Occlumency. I just can't. I am trying, I am but he's just getting in my head more often than not and-."

"You're right." Draco answered, closing his arms around Harry's shoulders and drawing his body closer. "The Occlumency lessons aren't working. I'm going to talk to Severus about canceling them. I'll try and think of other way you can protect yourself, but him breaking into your mind once a week is just making your defenses weaker."

"What?" Harry asked. He removed his head from the crook of Draco's neck, looking up at Draco.

Draco flinched, expecting the red eyes of Voldemort and then relaxed into the green was Harry. They were the key to understand his thoughts and his feelings and when Draco was caught in Harry's eyes, he always felt understood and like he understood someone else. Suddenly, Harry was flat on the ground with Draco hovering on top of him, their bodies inches apart. He didn't exactly remember moving but he knew that he did.

"You don't need to worry so much," Draco said, voice low and seductive, looking down at Harry's wide green eyes. "You're stronger than The Dark Lord will ever be."

"But-," Harry started, but Draco was already leaning down. Harry gasped, opening his mouth for Draco's tongue to begin devouring. He licked Harry's teeth, his gums, and then stroked that place in his mouth that had been sensitive to Draco's ministrations last time they had kissed. On cue, Harry arched, his hands reaching to lock in Draco's hair and pull him closer than physically possible. Harry's own tongue rose to respond to Draco, stroking along Draco's length and making him suppress his shudder of appreciation.

Draco reached into his robes, fumbling for his wand. He flicked it once, leaving Harry naked on the cold tile of the corridor. Harry yelped, looking up at him with startled eyes and yet never breaking their kiss. Draco smiled and ran his tongue delicately against Harry's as a reward. Now was most probably not the best time, but he might never get a better chance. So, fuck the consequences. He was sure his heart would be fine.

Eventually.

Harry shuddered violently, his hands tensing harshly in Draco's hair when he grasped his cock. Draco continued to kiss him, sure he was bruising both their mouths as he lowered his other hand down Harry trembling stomach, bypassing his cock to fondle his balls. Harry gasped, finally wrenching his mouth away from Draco's to draw in a long-shuddered breath.

"Dr-draco!" He cried, as Draco latched his lips onto Harry's neck, refusing to allow his mouth away from Harry's skin. Harry's hands tightened in Draco's hair, pulling him away. A stab of annoyance passed through him, but he shoved it down as best he could, only glaring at Harry mildly.

"What?" He griped, looking up at Harry.

"Why…" Harry shivered as Draco began to stroke along his length. "Why are you st-still dressed?" He managed.

"You don't like me ravaging you?" Draco purred, beginning to lower his mouth again. Harry turned his face away, avoiding Draco's lips and Draco wrenched his face away, suddenly hurt.

"I would like it more if you wouldn't treat me like your toy." Harry answered and there was no mistaking the hurt in his voice. Draco tensed, looking down at him with a mixture of bewilderment and fury. Didn't Harry have any idea how he made Draco feel on a daily basis. Didn't he know what he had just done to him?

It was horrible, and it hurt, and suddenly he wanted Harry to hurt as he'd been hurting. Draco grasped his wand again and with a single flick found himself naked alongside Harry. He wanted Harry to understand as only Harry could. Their cocks brushed along each other and they groan simultaneously. He wanted Harry to hurt him as only Harry could. As no one else had been able to reach inside of him and pull the pain out.

Harry's hands clamped down in Draco's hair, bringing his face down and crushing their lips together. Harry was in control of the kiss this time, his tongue tangling with Draco's and then finally entering Draco's mouth. He caught Draco's lips between his own and then bit down hard.

Draco cried out, grinding his hips against Harry in a mixture of pain and pleasure and it felt so good. It felt too good. He shoved back, but Harry continued to push, putting his hands up and around Draco's shoulders and pulling him down so their bodies were as close as physically possible. Draco groaned, his hands falling on either side of Harry's head to support himself as Harry's hips rose and fell in time with Draco.

Harry's hands were in his hair again, pulling and tugging and Draco could hear himself moaning which _should_ have been concerning. He wasn't usually vocal during sex. Hell, he usually didn't even let people touch him during sex, but somehow it was all happening, and he could—no, he didn't want to—stop it.

He was so beyond pleasure. Naked in the corridor with Harry Potter under him and no Dark Lord or father to impress. It was only them and he should never—never—have worried about what Harry wanted from him.

" _Harry_ ," Draco panted against Harry's skin.

"Y-yes, l-lover," Harry managed, his bright green eyes turning up to focus on Draco. He jerked, looking down at Harry for a long moment. And then his muscles were tensing and he threw his head back and cried out as he came, his thick white liquid shooting across Harry's stomach. Harry didn't move as Draco rode his orgasm out. He was shocked at himself. Never, never had he lost control of himself like that.

Once, Draco came down from his orgasmic high, he locked eyes with Harry and realized that he was looking up at him with wide surprised eyes. Draco made an effort to close his eyes off, he was such an idiot. What was he _doing?_

But Harry was still hard against his stomach and he couldn't just leave without bringing him off. Draco lowered his hands along Harry's sides, gripping Harry's hard cock in his hand. Harry immediately arched at his touch, rutting against the feeling. Draco ducked his head, lowing it down and wrapping his lips around Harry's head. He was trembling, his fingers still tight against Draco's scalp and that _should not_ have felt good.

It didn't take long for Harry to come, Draco swallowing his cum and licking along the underside of his shaft as he lapped up the extra fluid. He didn't know why he did it; the stuff always tasted disgusting, but it was different with Harry. It felt different. It felt good. He pulled off Harry, his gaze flicking up to lock on his wide sated green eyes.

"I- um," Draco cleared his throat. Harry looked up at him expectantly, and he turned his face away. Draco didn't know what to do. He didn't know what he wanted. He fumbled for his wand, casting a cleaning charm and to summon their clothes. He hesitated to move, though, to pull out of Harry grip and leave as if nothing had happened between them.

"Draco," Harry said, his voice soft and thoughtful, and Draco's gaze snapped to him so fast he thought he might suffer from whiplash. "I'm sorry I thought you were shagging Pansy," he said, and Draco's eyes widened. "I-," Harry swallowed nervously. "I was jealous."

"But Chang…"

"Was a mistake." Harry sighed. "I thought you didn't… I just-," he seemed to struggle for a moment. "She cornered me and I just didn't see a reason to tell her no if you didn't care about me."

"I…" Draco stared at him. It was like being stabbed. Harry said it as if it didn't upheave everything Draco believed about him. And he just couldn't. He couldn't deal with this.

He lurched to his feet, swinging around and beginning to pace toward the Slytherin Commons.

"Draco!" Harry's voice called, and he hesitated.

"Just give me time to think, Potter," he said before he disappeared.

* * *

"There's no point in continuing," Draco said, glaring at Severus with all the anger he could muster.

"There is no point on stopping," Severus answered, meeting Draco's look levelly. "Potter is refusing to control his mind, giving up his Occlumency lessons will do nothing but encourage his reckless behavior."

"You didn't see him last night," Draco snapped. "We can't keep opening his mind like we are."

"And you can't keep babying him." Severus snapped back. "Potter must learn to control his mind."

"He's trying," Draco answered.

"No. He's not trying, and you know it."

"Why would Harry-."

"Draco," Severus hissed, and Draco flinched. "If you cannot even control your emotions, how can you expect Potter to learn from you?" He asked, his voice coiling around Draco's mind and making him want to shiver. Draco shook Severus' mind off with a quick flick of his thoughts and met his eyes with cold anger.

"You're pushing him too hard," Draco insisted. "And the only thing you're succeeding at is opening his mind wider for The Dark Lord." This made Severus hesitate, studying his Godson with new interest.

"Draco-."

"Severus," Draco stepped forward. "Severus, please. I can't," his voice cracked. "I can't watch that again. I can't." He put his head in his hands and let the shame wash through him. He knew it was weak of him. He knew; he was just reaching the point of being beyond caring.

"And you think stopping his lessons will help him?"

"I think something has to change," he answered, shaking his head in his hands. "You didn't see him-."

"Draco," Severus said, his voice sounding like it was right above his head. Draco looked up to meet his dark thoughtful eyes. "Have you told Potter how you feel?"

"I…"

"Don't you think he would want to know?" Severus raised an eyebrow and Draco looked away, refusing to confess all. What was he supposed to say, 'oh yes, Harry pretty much confessed to me last night but I'm too much of a coward to take him up on it?' Somehow, he just didn't see Severus understanding that.

"Very well, Draco," Severus sighed. "Then what do you suggest we do?"

"Well," Draco shifted, lifting himself up and straightening his back. "If you really think he's not trying to close his mind-."

"He's not."

"-then we need to actually find out why. Nothing is ever going to change if Ha-Potter doesn't change the way he thinks about Occlumency."

"And…?" Severus raised an eyebrow and Draco knew his Godfather was testing him, waiting for him to say the right thing, regardless of his emotional attachment.

"And I think we should focus less on repelling your attacks and more on stopping them from happening all together."

"Potter will never have the discipline-," Severus started to protest.

"You don't know that," Draco answered. "And it's better than bumbling around hoping he figures it out, which in case I need to point out, he hasn't."

"Very well," Severus sighed eventually. "We will try your way. After all, the only thing we have to lose is the world." Draco rolled his eyes, refusing to rise to the bait.

"And Severus," Draco said. "There's one more thing." Severus raised an eyebrow, silently asking for Draco to continue. "I want to join The Order of The Pheonix." He said and was proud that his voice didn't shake.


	13. Part 1: Chapter 13

**_Warning: N/A_**

Chapter 13- And Can You Understand

Harry was walking with Ron and Hermione when Draco stepping in front of them, effectively cutting off their forward motion. Harry blinked up at him, getting ready for whatever he had done wrong this time. Hermione cut off her monologue mid-sentence and Ron's shoulders tensed as if he were getting ready for a fight.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Ron asked, stepping forward and Harry rolled his eyes. Ron still refused to trust Draco, believing he was going to eat Harry or something equally grotesque though Hermione and Harry had both tried to convince him otherwise.

"Ever so pleasant, Weasley," Draco sighed, eyes never leaving Harry's. "I need to speak with you." Ron opened his mouth to deliver another scathing comment.

"Harry," Hermione interrupted suddenly, taking hold of Ron's arm. "I just remembered this project I had forgotten about." Harry blinked at her. "So, Ron and I'll just be going down to the library. You'll be ok, yes?" She cast him a meaningful look, and he turned his face away, refusing to meet either her knowing eyes or Draco's questioning ones.

"The library?" Ron whined. "But _why_?"

"Oh, come _on_ , Ron," she snapped, dragging him down the hall and away from Harry and Draco.

"Well," Draco raised an eyebrow after their retreating forms. "That was subtle." Harry coughed out a surprised laugh, and Draco glanced at him, his mouth twitching in a half smile that left Harry with painful knots lining his stomach.

"Um," Harry shifted, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably. "I, uh, you needed to speak to me?"

"What?" Draco blinked at him for a moment and then seemed to realize what exactly Harry had asked. "Oh, yes." He turned his grey eyes away, gesturing before heading down the hall to stop outside an empty classroom. Harry watched him, trying to keep the disbelief off his face. When they'd been together last night, and Draco had lost it on top of him—Harry had never felt such deep contentment. He had expected Draco to run away, it was inevitable. But then he also couldn't stop himself from hoping that Draco would change his mind and seek him out. Just like he was doing now….

Draco glanced down the hallway as if to make sure no one was watching—though why he cared Harry couldn't imagine—before slipping into the classroom. Harry went in after him, passing so close he felt Draco's fingertips brush his waist. He sucked in a breath, stumbling closer to Draco, in desperate _need_ of that sinful touch against his skin. Their eyes locked and all rational thought flew out of Harry's head.

"Harry," Draco whispered, his voice hoarse and full of answering lust. Harry's eyes widened, gasping slightly as his eyes met the beautiful silver-grey iris' that were always successful at breaking any willpower Harry had. And then Draco's lips were against his, hot and wet and moving with the sinful passion that was unequal to any other feeling. He reached for Draco, wanting- Then Draco jerked away, gasping for air and looking for all the world as if he had just committed some unforgivable crime.

"Draco?" Harry asked. He heard the venerability in his voice and knew just how close he was to breaking. He _needed_ Draco to close the gap between them. To say he cared just as much, that Harry wasn't just a toy to him. That it had never been just sex.

"I-," Draco stopped to clear his throat and when he started again his voice was its normal lilting timbre. As if nothing had every happened. "I just brought you here to tell you we're changing the way you study Occlumency."

"What?" Harry blinked.

"Severus and I believe that we should take on a less hands-on approach." Draco answered, taking a step away and out of the reach of Harry's hands. His head was still turned away, looking anywhere but at Harry. "We're going to focus more on your mental defenses."

"My mental defenses?" Harry blinked again, his mind feeling unnaturally foggy as if it just wouldn't compute what Draco was saying.

"Yes, from now on, Severus won't be breaking into your mind anymore." Draco said. "We'll just be working on the barriers around your mind."

And then he understood. Draco hadn't brought him here because he'd wanted him, he'd brought him here because he'd needed to tell him about Occlumency. Harry flushed in humiliation, dropping his eyes to the ground and refusing to look up.

"Oh, ok. That sounds… good, I guess."

"Yeah," Draco answered, his voice still that normal emotionless tone as if he didn't care about the havoc he was causing to Harry's heart.

"I should…" Harry murmured, his eyes flicking up to Draco's face and then away again. "I should go." He knew Draco said something, he heard his voice, but he didn't exactly hear what he said.

Harry crossed toward the door, moving away from Draco with steps so fast he could have been running. He _felt_ like running. "Harry!" Draco called when his hand touched the door handle. Harry hesitated, his eyes still locked on the handle of the door. He just wanted to _leave_. "Harry, I want-," Draco started, and Harry _couldn't_. He _knew_ what Draco was going to say and he just couldn't hear his apologies for not returning Harry's feelings. He couldn't hear how sorry Draco was for ever hurting him.

"I'll see you on Monday, Malfoy," Harry told the door before he allowed his heart to take control of his limbs and then he _ran_. He felt like he was crumbling from the inside out. He wasn't even in pain anymore. He was just numb. He had really thought…. Just for a moment he believed he meant as much to Draco as Draco meant to him.

And that had made that snap to reality that much more painful.

* * *

The rest of the week was torture. Hermione asked what Malfoy wanted and then was puzzled when Harry told her.

"That's all he wanted?" She'd asked.

"Yes," He'd answered. "Why are you so surprised?" After that, she hadn't said anything else about it though he was sure he'd seen her corner Malfoy in the library later that day. She never told him what he'd said, and he was grateful; he didn't need her to confirm what he already knew.

Ron was ecstatic that Harry seemed to have cut off all contact with Malfoy. He'd said one 'good riddance' and then hadn't made another comment about Malfoy complete disappearance from their conversations and lives.

Harry for his part, tried not to think about Malfoy. After all, what good would it do to pine after him. But when Draco would look at him with those silver-grey eyes completely focused on him, the world just fell into place again. And when he wasn't there, Harry felt lost. His scar still burnt, he was still having dreams, and the only person he wanted to talk to was Draco. So no, he wasn't anywhere near moving on. Especially when he'd remember that little tidbit Hermione gave him about Parkinson and Malfoy _not_ shagging and Harry would replay all the possibilities in his head over and over again. If only he hadn't made that stupid comment to Draco all those months ago, would things be different now?

Harry sighed gustily, shoving open the door to the potions classroom and then stopping. Malfoy's head immediately rose out of the funneling cloud that billowed from the potion set positioned in front of him.

"Um," Harry shifted his feet uncertainly. "It _is_ 6:00 o'clock, right?" Malfoy stared at him, an eyebrow rising with a mixture of annoyance and amusement.

"You did listen to me when I said we'd be changing your training, right?"

"And that includes brewing potions?" Harry groaning and resisting the temptation to bang his head against the wall. He had failed enough at potions and Occlumency, no need to combine the two.

"This is a _Polyanima_ potion, Potter." Malfoy rolled his eyes. "It allows the drinker access to people's conscious minds."

"Ok," Harry answered, wary now. Malfoy didn't plan to use that on _him,_ did he? Because Harry was pretty sure Draco had enough blackmail material without reading just how much Harry liked him.

"You and I are going to enter my mind." Malfoy told him, leaning over the table and pulling two goblets closer to him. "You're going to look at the defenses around my mind, understand how they work, why they're necessary, and what you would need to do to build your own."

"We're going inside _your_ mind?" Harry asked, resisting the urge to bolt from the room. He wasn't sure this was a good idea, especially since he really didn't _want_ to know exactly what Malfoy had thought about him.

"Don't worry," Malfoy answered, pouring two large scoops into the goblets in front of him before turning to Harry with serious eyes. "You won't see anything that I don't want you to." Harry bit his lip, not exactly feeling reassured. But he just nodded and closed his hand around the offered goblet. Draco kept his grey eyes firmly locked on Harry's as he raised his own goblet to his lips. It wasn't until the potion was halfway down his throat that Harry realized Draco's right forefinger was tapping frantically against his thigh. Harry blinked as Draco's eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed. If _Draco_ was being brave when he was really nervous then certainly Harry could swallow a potion and look into the mind of his… whatever they were. He picked up the second goblet and downed the contents, almost retching at the taste.

The first thing Harry noticed was the feeling of something pulling on his mind and his body. The pain came a second later. He felt as if he was being ripped in half—his mind being wrench out and away from his body. He cried out, trying desperately to hold himself together.

 _Let go,_ Malfoy's voice sounded inside his mind, bouncing and echoing along the walls. Harry started, and the force used his distraction to pull his mind out. Then suddenly he was floating, feeling as if he was being pushed along by an invisible current. With a rush he was grounded again, his body materializing around him as he was anchored inside a pale blue landscape that left Harry with the feeling, he was walking on an alien planet.

 _That's a normal feeling,_ Malfoy's voice echoed around him.

"What is?" Harry asked, his voice bouncing around him.

"Feeling as if you're somewhere alien," Draco answered, and Harry whirled around to face him. "You're somewhere completely unfamiliar, somewhere you'll likely never be again." Draco tilted his head, studying Harry with his silver-grey eyes slightly narrowed. "And most people can never begin to understand another person's conscious mind, just as they can't understand an alien planet."

"Wait," Harry whispered, turning in a circle to reevaluate the blue landscape. "You mean..."

"This is my mind," Draco confirmed. The landscape was done up in shades of blue and white, the air shimming with blue flecked crystals that burned along Harry's skin like ice. There was low cut grass across the ground that itched Harry's feet and far off in the distance there stood a single towering building that could have been anything and was too far away to truly make out. It was completely breathtakingly beautiful, but the more Harry looked, the colder it seemed, the more dangerous it seemed. As it you could be lured in by the beauty and then frozen by the hidden ice within.

"That's not going to happen," Draco murmured.

"What?"

"There's no hidden ice."

"I didn't-," Harry blushed, beginning to backtrack. Then he stopped himself, he hadn't spoken aloud, had he? Come to think of it, how had Draco known he had been thinking of alien planets, as well? "You're reading my thoughts?" Harry said.

"No," Draco said. "You're shouting your thoughts at me." Draco snorted and then covered his mouth as if he hadn't meant to make the sound. The blue crystals danced in the air around his head and Draco uncovered his mouth to shoo them away.

"How do I stop?"

"Guard your thoughts."

"But-," Harry started to protest that he _obviously_ didn't know how to do that.

"Look into my eyes, Harry," Draco said, and when he shifted forward the whole blue landscape behind him shimmered in time to his movements, leaving Harry dazzled by the beauty of it all. "Feel the pattern of my thoughts." Draco whispered, coming even closer.

And Harry shivered as the blue crystals swirled in the air, brushing against his skin to leave a frozen trail, just as cold and unforgiving as Draco himself. Draco flinched as if still hearing Harry's thoughts, but just continued speaking. "Look and feel how to control your mind."

Harry turned his face, locking eyes with Draco and looking. He could see the shift of thoughts in the back of his eyes, but he couldn't understand the meaning of them. There was a dense wall between Harry and Draco's thoughts, blocking him from getting any closer.

"I don't understand," Harry whispered.

"Then look closer," Draco answered, shifting even closer. Harry shivered as the blue crystals pressed down even harder against him, urging Harry to look, to _understand_. Harry blinked, were the crystals a cognitive part of Draco's mind too? He flicked his eyes over, focusing on a blue crystal that was hovering about a foot from his face.

Immediately, the wall around Draco's thoughts shifted. It closed around the blue crystals, locking Harry out and snapping the flow of emotions off. Harry blinked, turning to Draco in surprise.

"How did you do that?"

"Look closer, Harry," Draco answered. "Stop trying to get around it and start trying to understand it." Harry bit his lip, turning back to the wall in front of him and taking a step closer. The wall was shifting with his eye, molding itself to what Harry was expecting to see and strengthening itself where Harry was expecting weakness.

"I still don't understand," Harry said.

"Yes, you do." Draco answered, and a single blue crystal brushed against Harry's face, feeling as soft and sweet as satin.

"But how do you keep it intuitive if you don't know what the person's thinking?" He asked, keeping his eyes on the wall. "And how do you keep focused on it even while you're talking?"

"Intuition. The better you are at reading someone, the better the defenses will be. Also, the better you know someone, the easier it is to keep them out of your mind because you can predict their movements." Draco said, the wall shifting and the blue crystals pressing even as he spoke. "And keeping it up is just a matter of practice and necessity."

"I could never do that." Harry answered, reaching out on impulse.

"You thinking that is half the reason you can't." Draco said. Harry's hand hesitated a second before it touched the wall in front of him and then his knuckles brushed against the smooth blue surface. Draco gasped, making Harry turn toward him, his hand half raised. Their eyes locked, and Harry restrained the gasp at the emotion he found in Draco's gaze.

It wasn't just surprise, it was something close to adoration. His cheeks flushed as he stared at Harry with eyes so wide, Harry could see every inch of his silver-grey iris'. The blue crystals began to beat around them at a frantic pace, pushing against Harry. Though they were no longer cold and rough but soft and warm, inviting and wanting instead of demanding and urging.

"Do that again," Draco said, voice barely above a whisper.

"What?" Harry blinked, beginning to drop his hand against the on slot of new sensations. Draco made an impatient sound in the back of his throat and crossed in front of Harry with three long strides, taking his hand in both of his. Harry just let his hand hang limply in Draco's grip, feeling as if he was missing something important. Draco _didn't_ act like this and he certainly didn't look at Harry like _that_.

"Do this," Draco whispered, bringing Harry's hand up to his face and pressing it to his cheek.

"I don't-," Harry started.

"I can _feel_ you, Harry," Draco murmured, pressing Harry's hand harder against his cheek. "I can feel your mind."

"But couldn't you already-,"

"No, reading memories, even thoughts is different. This is..." Draco trailed off, focusing on Harry. He blinked and then seemed to realize what exactly he was doing. He tensed, beginning to pull away, his silver-grey eyes narrowing and turning away until Harry couldn't read them anymore. But his walls weren't quite up quick enough for Harry this time. "My apologies," he said. "I shouldn't have-."

This time Harry _understood_ why Draco insisted on yanking away from him when it would have been so easy to admit he cared. He finally _understood_ why Draco pulled away as if he had been burnt. It had nothing to do with Harry and everything to do with Draco not trusting himself. He wondered how many times Draco had been told never to let his emotions go, to never let anyone see that side of himself.

"Wait," Harry whispered, moving his hand along Draco's cheek and clutching at the back of his neck. "Just... Wait," he could hear the pleading edge to his voice, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He just didn't want Draco to turn away from him again. Not when he knew the truth.

"Harry," Draco bit his lip, his voice rough. He was completely stiff under Harry's fingers, refusing to move as Harry brought his other hand up and placed it firmly against Draco's cheek. Harry leaning closer, his fingers smoothing along Draco's cheekbones, determined to get a reaction. "Harry, stop." Draco said, grasping his wrists and stopping him in his tracks.

"Draco, you stop." Harry breathed, tugging against the hands but Draco held him firm.

"What?" Draco's eyes widened, staying focused on Harry with something close to disbelief.

"Stop trying so hard to control yourself." Harry clarified, holding Draco's eyes as his hands tightened around his wrist to a painful degree.

"That's not-," Draco started to shake his head, the blue crystals beginning to swirl frantically around them. They were freezing around the hands that held Harry's wrist though Draco maintained his grip and growing painfully warm in the space between their bodies, as if urging them to close the space.

"Why aren't _we_ allowed to be happy, Draco?" Harry asked, looking into conflicted silver-grey eyes and knowing he'd been wrong about Draco the entire time. Draco had always wanted him. He had always cared about him. Now, Draco himself just needed to accept that Harry wanted him back.


	14. Part 1: Chapter 14

**_Warning: Some text from the original book._**

Chapter 14- And Can I Let Go

"You can't join the Order if it's for Potter," Severus had said. Those had been his exact words.

"It's not for Potter," Draco had answered. "It's because I'm so tired of everything horrible happening around me and not feeling like I'm doing anything about it."

"Everything horrible… you mean the horrible things happening to Potter?" He could still feel the skeptical look in Severus had thrown him, the narrowing of his eyes, the unconvinced purse of his lips.

"No!" He'd hesitated, because it had been because of what happened to Harry. But it also hadn't been. Draco had been against The Dark Lord longer than he had cared what Harry's first name was, he just hadn't had the courage to admit it until he'd seen Harry writhing on the floor with the glowing red eyes of Lord Voldemort. "This isn't about him, Severus. This is about me."

Severus had pursed his lips and nodded though Draco could tell he didn't like it. But he had trusted him. Severus had trusted him, and Draco was terrified of disappointing him the way he'd always disappointed his father.

And now Harry was staring at him, waiting for an answer to an impossible question and Draco didn't know what to do. He felt like running very far away. He felt like collapsing into Harry's arms and telling him how very in love with him he was. He wondered whose forgiveness he would have to ask for if he did something like that.

"Why aren't we allowed to be happy, Draco?" Harry had asked, and then Draco didn't know.

He did deserve to be happy, they both did. Harry had paid for his happiness in blood and pain and loneliness and Draco could see how much it cost him every day to pretend not to break. And Draco had paid for it by pretending he was his father's son. That he actually cared what The Dark Lord said, and they were still paying for it for every day.

But that didn't mean being together was the answer.

So, then why did he want to? Why was it so hard to follow the logic when Harry was looking at him and those damn crystals were still buzzing in his ears and he didn't know, he didn't know what should do but he sure as fuck knew what he wanted...

"Harry…." Draco started, unsure what was about to come out of his mouth, but sure it wasn't going to do him any good.

Fortunately, the potion wore off before he said anything else, slamming into their active minds and giving Draco whiplashing. Harry was sent to the ground in a sprawled mess at his feet and he would have laughed at the ridiculous expression on Harry's face, if reality hadn't smacked him in the face as soon as his feet touched the ground.

Harry turned to him, his eyes wary, as if reality had just given him a wake-up call too. Draco tried not to feel disappointed. He didn't even know why he would be. Wasn't it good that Harry understood why it would never work between them? Why would it disappoint him that he suddenly changed his mind and stopped bothering Draco?

"Draco," he said, reaching out his hand and Draco froze, all reasonable thoughts flooding from his head and leaving not but a tiny stream of indecision.

" _Harry_ ," Draco said again, his voice sounding oddly old and croaky as if he'd swallowed a frog, though he didn't remember when he'd of done that.

"Draco, being with you would make me happy." Harry declared, his hand landing on the side of Draco's face and stroking along his cheekbone. Draco shivered, his mind knew it was ridiculous. Harry had touched him in more private places than his cheek but this felt... It felt personal, intimate. And his body reacted- not with the overwhelming lust of sex and desire but with a hot glow around his face that spread slowly down his neck and burrowed like molted lava in his chest. He felt like he was on fire, his nerve ends about to give out because of the sheer intensity of one damn touch.

And mentally, he knew he should pull away. He should run screaming from the room. He should laugh and proclaim Harry was a fool who would get his heart broken. But looking into those clear emerald eyes with that fire burning through his heart and down into his limbs, he couldn't for the life of him remember why he should do anything of the sort.

Draco opened his mouth and for once he _knew,_ he knew what he was going to say. And he knew what would make him happy. "Harry, I-," and he was interrupted by a woman's scream. They jerked away from each other, listening as the screaming continued from somewhere above them.

"What the bloody hell?" Draco said, storming across the room to throw open the door. He took the stairs two at a time, feeling as if Hogwarts itself was leading him towards his destination. Harry was right behind him, matching him step for step as they approached the sound of the screaming. It was in the entrance hall, where a large group of students had formed a ring, looking confused and frightened. Draco stepped back, ducking his head to get away from the mass of students. He knew what was happening. Umbridge had been bragging about her newest plans for days.

"Draco?" Harry said, reaching out for his arm. "What's going on?"

"What?" He snapped, jerking away before Harry could touch him. His hand dropped, hurt flashing across his face. "How would I know?"

"You c-can't sack me!" Professor Trelawney's voice suddenly became recognizable from the middle of the circle. "I've b-been here for sixteen years! H-hogwarts is m-my h-home!"

"It _was_ your home," Umbridge's voice said, sounding smug and full of enjoyment at another person's pain. Trelawney howled as if someone had just kicked her.

"She can do this?" Harry hissed, taking a step forward as if to start pushing through the crowd. "Why is no one doing anything?"

"Don't get involved, Harry," Draco said.

"What?" He answered, twirling around to glare. "Someone has to do something! Umbridge can't just-."

"She won't," Draco said. "Dumbledore is coming."

"What? How do you know?"

As if on que, Dumbledore's deep voice broke through Umbridge's annoying monologue of threats.

"As high inquisitor," he said, his voice light though without a question of being followed. "you have the right to dismiss my teachers. You do not, however, have the authority to send them away from the castle. I am afraid that the power to do that still remains with the headmaster and it is my wish that Professor Trelawney continue to live at Hogwarts." Harry turned to him with eyes wide and full of surprise. Draco resisted the temptation to feel annoyed.

"How did you...?" Harry asked, turning his gaze back on Draco. He bit his lip, unsure how much he was supposed to say.

Then he felt completely hypocritical, advocating to Severus about Harry's right to information and then keeping it from him when he had a choice.

"I told-," he started, then there was a loud gasp from the students followed by silence.

"This is Firenze," Dumbledore's voice rang into the entrance hall. "I think you'll find him acceptable."

Then the students exploded in noise, people pushing their way forward to try and see, others just asking what was going on, others protesting, others exclaiming in excitement. And Harry had his mouth half open in shock as if he already knew what was going on.

"Come on," Draco said, snatching his arm and dragging him away from the crowd of students before he could do something stupid.

"But Firenze is a centaur." Harry protested as he let Draco pull him away from the commotion below. "Will Dumbledore be able to get away with employing him?" They stopped in a small alcove just up the stairs, Draco peeked out to make sure no one was looking before turning to Harry with a martyred expression.

"Dumbledore's smart, he's been going behind Umbridge's back for weeks to get this approved." Draco sighed. "Besides, how do you even know Firenze is a centaur?"

"Do you remember the detention we went to the forest to help Hagrid and I almost died?" He asked.

"That time I ran away and _left_ you to die?" Draco asked, pinching the bridge of his nose as if that would make him feel better.

"Firenze saved my life." Harry said, ignoring him, and Draco let his hand drop to stare.

"But I don't understand," Harry insisted. "How did you know what was going on? You knew what Umbridge was doing before I even heard anything."

"Because she told me what she was going to do."

"What? Why?" He blinked.

"I told you, after we met at The Hog's Head, I got her to trust me. I've been in her inner circle ever since. It was a simple thing to tell Dumbledore about her plans to throw Trelawney out after that."

"But .." Harry shook his head. "You knew about Firenze too. Did Dumbledore tell you that?"

"Why wouldn't he?" Draco answered, resisting the temptation to roll his eyes. "I'm in The Order, Harry." There were three heartbeats of complete silence and he was convinced Harry was about to go into shock. Then when he started breathing again, his eyes so angry, Draco was sure they'd start glowing in about three seconds.

"They let _you_ in?" He said, and Draco flinched at the way his voice twisted on the you. As if it was so appalling that Draco was considered trustworthy to someone. "But they can't even tell me what's going on ever! And why didn't you tell me what was going on?" He snapped, flinging his hands in the air with such fury, Draco took a step away. "Why didn't you even tell me you were part of The Order? When did this even happen? All that bollocks about me deserving to know shite and you keep this from me?" Draco took a beat to study him, his chest rising and falling heavily, his black hair tangled and waving into his face, and his eyes flashing with accusation. He jerked his chin up haughtily, taking the time to calm himself before he said something he would regret.

"Why didn't I tell you I was part of The Order of The Phoenix?" Draco asked, speaking slowly as if he were explaining something to a child. "Maybe because I knew you'd act like a spoiled child," Harry flinched, opening his mouth to protest, but Draco was already talking again. "Mourning wrongs done to you instead of saying 'congratulations, Draco, on not becoming evil like your parents.' Which by the way, is the only reason they let someone like me in. To spy for them because I'm expendable. So, instead of acting like a brat, you should be thankful that someone cares about you enough to say 'no, we'd better keep him safe instead of throwing him to the Deatheaters and hope they don't find out he's a spy.'" Draco sneered, lips twisting with the bitterness of it all.

"I-," Harry tried, reaching out. Draco smacked his hand away, feeling childish but so far beyond caring. He had the right to act like a child no matter how much he was expected to be an adult.

"And second, maybe I didn't tell you because it had nothing to do with you. It's my life, Potter, mine. Not yours. So, don't you dare accuse me of not telling you things because if it was up to them, I wouldn't even have told you this."

"I didn't mean-," Harry said, his green eyes wide and full of remorse. But it was too little, too late and he wasn't about to be persuaded by those eyes. Not this time. Not when he could feel the bitterness and disappointment and hurt bubbling up in him. He had been so close. So, close to giving in and giving Harry everything, he'd been asking for, but he had been wrong.

Because even Harry Potter, perfect Potter, who was supposed to understand him and stand with him, didn't even believe in him. And if Harry couldn't, then he supposed no one could. And Draco had been fooling himself. He had been fooling himself from the beginning.

"Now," Draco straightened his back. "I trust you got everything you needed from the lesson today?"

"Draco-," he said.

"Then I'll see you next Monday," He said, turning on his heel. "Don't forget what you learned, Potter."

"Draco, wait!" Harry called but he was already out the door. And he didn't feel bad for always being the first to leave. It wasn't like anything would ever happen between them. It wouldn't.

And he refused to feel bad about that because his father had always been right, and it was better to never trust anyone with anything.


	15. Part 1: Chapter 15

**_Warning: Some text from the original book._**

Chapter 15- And Did You Betray Me

The weeks passed horribly for Harry. He was in a constant state of either wanting to be alone or wanting anyone to distract him from the total mess his life had become.

Not that any of his lessons helped. They all continued on as if nothing had happened. As if Umbridge wasn't biting at everyone's heels and she _hadn't_ just tried to throw Trelawney out. The only exception was Divination. Firenze's lessons were much different from Trelawney's, for him almost nothing was certain. He had them watching the stars and burning sage though he insisted it could take almost ten years to be certain of what they were seeing. And every time Harry stepped into Firenze's classroom, he felt just a little bit more confused.

Of course, his lessons with Draco continued. Though Snape almost never made an appearance anymore. Harry wondered why, but he just didn't have the courage to ask Draco why they were having one on one lessons now. With the way Draco'd been treating him, he'd just be ignored anyway. Frankly, the number of times Draco had ignored him, Harry was beginning to actually be concerned with his hearing.

He supposed he didn't have anything to truly complain about, Draco was never anything but polite and helpful; and Harry _was_ making progress with closing the barriers around his mind. But _that_ was exactly the problem. He didn't _like_ Draco acting civil when he knew he could feel him wanting to punch Harry in the nose for everything he'd said. He knew he'd hurt Draco, and Draco was acting like he didn't even care.

Ron and Hermione were no help. Ron would just say 'good riddance' and then tune out of the conversation. While Hermione insisted that he just needed to communicate with Draco. As if _that_ would work. What was he supposed to say that he hadn't already said?

"How about you're sorry?" Hermione had answered with a roll of her eyes. The problem was, he already had, and Draco had just looked at him before turning on his heel and walking away. "Then say it again," she'd insisted. He was beginning to believe her advice wasn't as sound as he'd always believed it was.

His only escape was the DA. But even that was tainted with his memories of Draco. He could remember the feel of Draco's leg against his when he'd stood up to Zacharias Smith for him, the pain when he'd accused Draco of shagging Pansy after practice-why had he done that? Everything had come tumbling down after he'd done that-, and the look in his eyes as he told Harry he would be a good teacher. And he _was_ good at it. Though he couldn't help thinking he would still prefer it if Draco himself came to the meetings.

"Ugh!" Pavati snapped, flicking her wand impatiently when nothing happened. "I still can't do this."

"Relax," Harry answered. "Make sure- ouch!" He squeaked, reaching into his pocket. He pulled the smoking Galleon out of his pocket, dropping it quickly to the ground before it could burn him. All around him, there were mirrored rounds of pain as people threw their own Galleons to the floor. He looked around, noticing that it had happened to almost everyone, then he focused on the Galleon's scattered across the floor. They were the Galleons Hermione had created as a way to communicate the time and place of a meeting.

"What the bloody hell?" Ron said, rubbing his raw hand. "Did the magic wear off or something?"

"Wait!" Hermione said. "It says something." There was absolute quiet as Hermione slowly bent over her coin and began to decipher the smoking message burned into the coin. "Umbridge." She said finally. "Run."

"What?" Harry blinked.

"That's what it says," she answered, looking up at him with wide brown eyes. "Umbridge. Run." There were two heartbeats of silence before everyone began screaming.

"GO!" Harry shouted, fighting to be heard over the chaos. "GO, GET OUT OF HERE!" Which was rather unnecessary considering everyone was already sprinting for the exit. He took a step forward and was swept into the crowd, being jostled toward the exit and away from Ron and Hermione.

"Harry!" Hermione called, standing a few feet away but unable to cross the mass of people to reach him. He shook his head and continued to push toward the exit. "Harry!" He heard her call again. But as soon as he was out in the corridor, he began to run, ignoring the throngs of students heading off in different directions. He knew Hermione would be looking for him, but he hoped she would take care of herself first.

Then suddenly, something had hold of him. He cried out, trying to yank his arm away but whatever it was had him in a vice-like grip.

"Calm down, Harry Potter," Dobby's voice said. Harry started, turning to face the elf in shock. "I is helping." He tugged once on Harry's arm and this time he let Dobby drag him down the corridor and into an empty room, spelling the room locked a moment later.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked. "How did you know I was in trouble?"

"Draco Malfoy send me, sir," Dobby answered, puffing out his chest proudly. "He says he didn't trust no one else to find you and brings you here. No one else, he says!"

"Draco?" Harry blinked, trying to wrap his head around the fact that Draco had asked _Dobby,_ of all people, to help Harry, when he'd thought Draco was barely refusing to acknowledge his existence-much less trying to help him. "Draco asked you to…"

"Oh, yes!" Dobby nodded his head vigorously. "Draco Malfoy was always kind to Dobby, unlike…" His eyes widened, and he looked around as if searched for something to punish himself with.

"But where is Draco now?" Harry asked quickly.

"I's not be knowing," Dobby answered, shaking his head with wide eyes. "He spends too much time with _her_."

"Her?" Harry asked, and Dobby shook his head frantically. "Umbridge?" He nodded, then seized a nearby desk and banged his head against it once, twice- "Dobby, stop!" Harry said, pulling him away from the desk.

"Is he with Umbridge now? What are they doing?"

"Draco Malfoy says I not to be telling Harry Potter," Dobby said, trying to grab hold of the desk again.

"What? Why?"

"He says Harry Potter will be wanting to get involved if I be telling him and then Harry Potter will be in danger."

"Dobby," Harry said, trying to keep his voice calm despite the rising anger. How dare Draco shove him to the side while everyone else was in danger? As if it was his decision to make. "Tell me where Draco is _right now._ " Dobby shook his head, forcefully wrenching out of Harry's grip to smack his head against the wall. "Dobby, _Draco_ may be in danger right now." Harry said reasonably. "I need to find him and help him."

"But Draco Malfoy said-."

"Yes, and now I'm saying he may need my help." He answered. Dobby trembled as he thought about it. Then finally:

"He be with _her_ rounding up the other students."

"Thank you, Dobby," Harry said. "Now go to the kitchen and _don't_ punish yourself, that's an order."

"Oh," his eyes filled with tears as he looked at Harry. "Thank you, Harry Potter, thank you!" Harry nodded once and then ran to the door and sprinted down the hallway. Most everyone else had to be either caught or got to safety. Besides, he couldn't worry about them right now. But he could worry about Draco.

He didn't want to know what Umbridge would do to him when she found out he was a spy for Dumbledore. After all, he had signed his name on the list and it wasn't like he'd just go around catching people and handing them over to Umbridge. Besides, Harry owed Draco a punch in the nose for-

"Aha!" Someone shouted behind him. "Stop right there, Potter!" He froze, holding his wand loosely as he waited for the person behind him to make the first move. "Very good, now drop your wand." She—it was definitely a girl—said. Harry hesitated before twisting around and casting at the girl.

" _Expelliarmus,_ " he shouted. Parkinson shrieked, her wand flying from her hand and landing squarely in Harry's.

"Potter, how dare you!" She yelled, narrowing her eyes on him. He hesitated, that wasn't exactly the response he was expecting. "Give that back to me _at once!"_

 _It's a trap,_ a voice that sounded suspiciously like Draco's sounded in his mind and Harry only had time to raise his wand before pain rocketed through his body, sending him to the ground.

"Ouch," Parkinson muttered, bending to yank hers and Harry's wands out of his hand. "That looked like it hurt."

"Modified _cruciatus_ curse," a new voice said, and Theodore Nott stepped around Harry's head, twirling his wand proudly. "My father taught me."

"Hmm," Parkinson smirked widely, looking down at Harry with an expression that _didn't_ make him look forward to what was coming next. "Think Draco would mind if we played with him a little?" He shivered, trying to rise to his feet.

"Not so fast, Potter." Nott said, pointing his wand. Another burst of pain shot through him and he clamped his teeth shut to hold down the curse, he wouldn't give them the satisfaction. Then Nott flicked his wand and it was over, leaving Harry gasping against the floor and glaring up at Nott. "Awe," Nott sneered down at him. "Not so high and mighty now, are you?"

"Frankly," Parkinson said. "I don't understand what Draco sees in him at all. He's not-."

"What I see in whom?"

The voice was like cold water over Harry's senses, waking him up from what he was sure was just a bad dream. His silver-grey eyes flicked over Nott and Parkinson, locking on Harry and flashing with quickly subdued anger. Draco would walk in with his sneer and his drawl and he would fix everything. Harry started to sit up, his body automatically reaching for Draco before his mind fully caught up with the situation they were in. Unfortunately, Draco just sneered and turned toward Parkinson. As if Harry were nothing to him.

"What are you doing?" Draco asked. "If you found Potter fleeing from the meeting you should have brought him to Umbridge immediately." Silence. " _Well_ ," he snapped.

"He was giving us trouble," Parkinson said finally, fluttering her eyelids in a way that was supposed to be flirtatious. Though Harry just wanted to vomit up his dinner, preferably on her. "We were just getting him under control."

"Ah, well, why don't you go get someone else under control now," he answered.

"Fine, fine," Nott held his hands up. "Goodness, Draco. He's all yours." Nott winked and turned to leave.

"Wait," Draco said. "His wand, Pansy." He held out his hand and Parkinson reluctantly placed Harry's wand into his hand.

"Want anything else from me, Draco dear?" She asked, leaning closer to him. Harry shifted, stifling the growl that was growing in the back of his throat.

"No," Draco answered, his voice a hairs breath from a snap. He jerked his chin up, looking down his nose at Parkinson as if daring her to try anything. Eventually, she sighed and sauntered after Nott down the corridor. Harry watched as Draco's eyes followed them down the hallway. He wasn't sure how he'd ever thought Draco had cared about Parkinson. Now that he knew Draco, it was so obvious that the girl annoyed him.

Draco watched the corridor until they couldn't hear the sounds of footsteps anymore, then he turned and studied Harry with cold eyes that made Harry shiver and look away. He reached out, lifting Harry to his feet with surprisingly gentle hands.

"Are you hurt?" He asked. Harry's whole body hurt. Nott's modified _cruciatus_ curses had done its work on him, but he could tell Draco was asking about something more pressing than muscle cramps.

"No."

"For Merlin's sake, Potter," He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You couldn't just stay hidden. You _had_ to get involved."

"What?" Harry gaped. "How could I just sit in a classroom and wait while yo- everyone else might need help?"

"Bloody Hell, Harry!" Draco answered, and Harry's eyes snapped up in surprise. "It's not your job to save the world! Why can't you just let other people take care of it? Take care of you?"

"I…" Harry blinked, wishing he had an answer that would satisfy him and knowing Draco wouldn't accept whatever he said.

"Never mind," Draco pinched the bridge of his nose harder. "Let's just go fix this."

"What do you mean?"

"Well," He let out a strangled laugh. "I mean that now, we have to go talk our way out of this mess with Umbridge."

Draco wasn't good company on their way up to the headmaster's office. He wouldn't string three words together for Harry and every time Harry looked at him, he promptly turned his face away. Eventually, they did reach the headmaster's rooms and to Harry's surprise Draco spoke the password with no hesitation.

"How did you know that?" Harry asked, trying not to sound annoyed. He didn't need to give Draco another reason to be upset with him.

"Both Umbridge and Dumbledore have made a point of making sure I know it." He answered casually. Then something seemed to occur to him. "Dumbledore's never told you his password?" He asked, looking at Harry with something close to bewilderment. Harry just looked away, refusing to admit that Dumbledore obviously trusted Draco more than him. "There's something absurdly wrong with that." Draco said, and Harry's head snapped around to stare at him, but he was already climbing the stairs, not even turning his head to make sure Harry was behind him.

"Haven't we got a counterjinx for this?" Fudge was saying. "So, she can speak freely?"

"What's going on?" Harry whispered.

"Chang's friend told Umbridge about the meeting," Draco whispered back. "I barely had enough time to warn you," then his lips tightened, and he fixed Harry with a pointed stare. "Not that it did any good apparently." Harry blinked and then realized what he was talking about.

"That coin!" He said loudly. "That was you?"

"Keep it down, will you?" Draco answered. "It was just a jinx on the coins. They were already connected, I just needed them to say something different then they normally would have."

"That was-," Harry started, determined to tell Draco how he'd saved the lot of them. Then Umbridge's voice sounded, echoing down the hall and easily cutting across Harry's words.

"I have evidence that Potter has been involve in…" Umbridge voice was saying.

"I think that's our que," Draco sighed, reaching past him to open the door. His chest brushed against Harry's back and Harry sucked in a startled breath, turning halfway to look Draco in the eyes.

"Wait-."

"Don't ask me things you don't mean, Potter." Draco whispered, his breath ghosting across the back of Harry's neck.

"But-," he was cut of abruptly as Draco shoved him roughly into the room. He stumbled before catching himself and looking around, taking in the scene before him. Umbridge was breathless, standing right in the center, Marietta in front of her. Written across Marietta's face in bright red pimples was the word SNEAK. Harry spared only a moment of appreciation for Hermione's charm work before turning back to the room. Dumbledore was behind his desk, though he wasn't looking as Harry at all, instead his eyes were focused on Draco's as if they were having a silent conversation. Professor McGonagall, Fudge, Percy Weasley, and several Aurors were also present.

"Aha!" Umbridge exclaimed as if she had planned their entrance. "You see, he's been caught in the act!"

"I'm sorry," McGonagall interrupted. "I'm still confused as to what he's been accused of?"

"I've already said!" Umbridge said impatiently. "Marietta told me-."

"But she never actually said Harry Potter was involved, did she?"

"I- Well," Umbridge looked momentarily confused before she regained herself. She turned to Draco, a wicked gleam in her eye. "Well, Draco. You're the one who brought Potter here. Was he involved?" The gleam grew in her eyes. "You're also the one who was spying on him since the beginning, are you telling me, there _haven't_ been any secret meetings for the past six months in which Potter was the leader of?" Draco tensed behind him. _This is it_ , Harry thought. _This is where he betrays her. He'll say I've not been involved and-_

"There have, in fact-," Draco said.

"What?" Harry exclaimed, trying to turn to face him. "How could-," Draco's hands closed around his arms, squeezing so tightly Harry cut himself off with a breathless squeak of pain.

"You are correct about the duration of the meetings," he said carefully.

"Oh, very good, very good," Fudge said, stepping forward immediately. "Weasley are you getting this?"

"Every word, Minister!" Percy answered, his pen scribbling across the page rapidly.

"You see!" Umbridge said, pointing at Harry. "I move for immediate expulsion and-."

"But professor," Draco interrupted, and all eyes turned back on him. "It's not _exactly_ like you thought."

"What? What do you mean? What isn't like I thought?"

"Potter _wasn't_ the leader," Draco said, his hands squeezing even harder on Harry arms. Harry resisted the urge to wince. What was Draco doing? "He was just a pawn."

"Mr. Malfoy," Fudge said, shaking his head. "I'm not sure I understand what you're saying."

"Well, Minister. I found this on Potter's person," Draco pulled out a piece of paper and passed it to Umbridge. "See how it says _Dumbledore's Army?"_ He said. "As near as I can figure, Dumbledore ordered Potter to recruit students and get them battle ready. Potter was never in charge; he was just doing as he was told." Harry blinked once, twice, and _then_ he realized just what Draco was trying to say, how Draco was lying so he wouldn't take the blame.

"NO!" He shouted. "NO, that's not true! Professor Dumbledore didn't-."

"Be quiet, Harry," Dumbledore murmured, looking intently as Draco. "Or I am afraid you will have to leave my office." All eyes were on Dumbledore now, waiting for his next move. Waiting to see whether he would dispute Draco's charges or be forced to admit to them.

"But-," Draco's hands squeezed on Harry's arms and he was cut off by his own hiss of pain. He was sure he'd have bruises later.

"Well?" Umbridge said finally. "What are you waiting for? Arrest him!" There was a loud bang as two of the Aurors surged forward. Then Draco was suddenly there, pinning him to the ground as hexes flew above them. Fawkes screeched, and a large cloud of black dust filled the air. Harry coughed, his nose hitting Draco's chest as sound of breaking glass filled the room and then—silence. Harry shoved Draco roughly away from him, moving to his feet and wobbling though Draco's hands were on his arms before he could fall. He pushed him away, scowling and wondering why Draco had done that.

McGonagall was dragging Marietta to her feet next to him. He looked around the wreckage of the room around them. The Aurors, Fudge, and Umbridge were unconscious, Dumbledore was gone, and Harry felt confused and betrayed.


	16. Part 1: Chapter 16

**_Thanks for the couple of reviews I've gotten. You guys are_** **amazing _! ! !_**

 ** _Warning: Some text from the original books, language._**

Chapter 16- And She Does She Hold Our Power

"That overgrown _cow,_ " Granger was ranting, almost shouting in the middle of the hall like an absolute fanny. Draco sighed, at the moment, it was hard to believe she was the smartest Witch in their class. Her and Weasley were standing in front of Umbridge's new proclamation, the one that declared her the new Headmistress of Hogwarts. "I expect she was just waiting for a chance to be sitting up in Headmaster's office, lording it over all the other teachers, the stupid puffed-up, power-crazy old-!"

"Careful how loud you say that," Draco interrupted her. "Never know who's listening." Granger jumped, whirling around to face him with her brown eyes the size of saucers.

"Yeah," Weasley snapped, following Granger's movement with less surprise and more anger. "Like you! Weren't you the one who sold Dumbledore out in the first place?"

"Yes, Weasel, I was." Draco sneered. "Now, if you'll be so kind as to follow me, I was sent for you. The new headmistress wants to see you."

"What?" Granger said. "Why?"

"Come along, Granger." Draco waved imperiously, turning on his heel as if he just expected them to follow. "And don't even think of not coming or rest assured _Headmistress_ Umbridge _will_ hear of it." Granger and Weasley exchanged a look but followed him none the less. He turned a corner and led them past several classrooms, finally stopping in the middle of an abandoned hallway.

"What are you doing?" Weasley asked. "I thought you were taking us to Umbridge."

"Quiet, Ron," Granger answered. Draco shoved open the door, ushering both of them in before closing it firmly behind him. He took a deep breath, facing their accusing eyes with a raised chin and straight shoulders. He refused to be intimidated by their judgement; he refused to care that they thought him guilty.

He hadn't wanted to blame Dumbledore, but he still had a rule to play. That had felt… good. At the very least, felt better than standing around waiting for Umbridge to make her next move and then have to pretend to laugh with her later. Now, even though he still had to pretend to laugh, he knew he could do something about it.

"I didn't betray Dumbledore," he said. "I only gave Umbridge the list because he told me to."

"Dumbledore wouldn't-," Weasley started.

"It makes sense," Granger interrupted. She had her thinking face on, eyes thoughtful and a crease forming between her brows as she concentrated. "Dumbledore would rather take the blame himself than risk Harry getting expelled."

"But-."

"Lay off, Ron." She sighed. "Why would Draco lie?"

"So, he can keep on manipulating us?" Weasley said, pointing at Draco as if they _didn't_ know where he was standing.

"Look," Draco answered. "I didn't bring you here to explain myself to you. I brought you here to tell you what was going on." Granger raised an eyebrow. "Umbridge's in complete control. She's started this student led group called The Inquisition Squad. We're allowed to take points, assign detentions, pretty much anything."

"What?" Granger's eyes widened alarmingly wide. "But- she can't do that! It would completely disrupt the Prefects and the teachers."

"That's the point." Draco answered, feeling like he should start speaking in baby words sometime soon. "The only people she wants with power are the people who are loyal to her and for the most part that doesn't include the teachers or the prefects. So, basically watch what you say and when you say it," he gave Granger a hard look. She blushed and dropped her eyes. "And also, the other teachers won't be able to help you. Actually, she's planning on sacking Hagrid next week."

"What?" Granger answered.

"She can't do that!" Weasley said.

"She can and she's going to." Draco answered. "The only reason she's holding off is because she's seeing if she can get him sent to Azkaban on some trumped-up charge of knowing where Dumbledore is."

"But that's- that's so…" Granger struggled for a moment before Draco decided to take pity on her.

"Fucked up? Welcome to the world we live in."

"Why are you telling us this?" Weasley asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. "What do you expect us to do?"

"Do?" Draco answered. "For Merlin's sake have you not been listening? I don't want you to _do_ anything. This is the worst possible time to do your whole heroic save the world shite. Just keep your heads down." He hesitated. "And make Potter do the same."

"So, that's what this is about?" Granger said, her smile slow and far too knowing.

"I don't know what you're talking about?" Draco's scowl deepened.

"You want us to take care of Harry for you."

"What?" Weasley blinked. "Why can't he just do that himself?"

"I'm… busy." Draco said, deciding to ignore the fact that Weasley was now talking about him as if he wasn't there. "I have more important things to do than watch people who don't want my help." He sniffed as if he had really been offended.

"Right." Granger rolled her eyes. "And what's the truth?"

"I…" He hesitated, biting down hard on his lip. He tasted blood on the tip of his tongue and immediately stopped. Malfoy's did _not_ engage in such behavior. Granger was still watching him expectantly, and he supposed he did owe her _some_ type of explanation. "Umbridge tolerated my behavior toward Harry because she thought I had manipulated him for information and now that I've gotten all the information…"

"She'll expect you to be horrible to him again?" Granger finished for him.

"And I expect Potter won't want anything to do with me after," Draco nodded, straightening his back with a humorless chuckle. "Not that I could blame him."

"So, what?" Weasley asked, scowling. "You want us to watch him for you? Harry's his own person."

"I'm fully aware of that, thank you." He rolled his eyes, suddenly wishing he'd only pulled Granger aside. It just didn't seem as if Weasley was capable of intelligent conversation. "But I also know Potter has a tendency to get into situations he shouldn't. I'm just asking you to make sure that doesn't happen."

"You make it sound so easy." Granger sighed.

* * *

"He's late," Draco said, pacing back and forth across the small space.

"Yes," Severus answered. "I _never_ would have figured that out."

"Maybe he's not coming." Draco sighed. "I have been truly horrible this week."

"You have." Severus answered, not even looking up from the papers strewn across his desks, and Draco whirled on him.

"That doesn't help."

"Neither does your pacing."

"But what if he doesn't come?" He asked. "You know he needs these lessons, Severus."

"Yes, and so does Potter," Severus said, scribbling a D across the top of a paper before moving to another. "Hopefully the boy if not so stupid as to let his emotions get in the way of what's good for him."

"Severus, Really," Draco said, beginning to pace again. "Are we talking about the same Potter, right now?"

"Draco, would you cease that infernal pacing." Severus snapped, now harshly scribbling out several lines of a student's paper and scrawling a T across the top.

"Did that paper deserve that?" Draco asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Just be lucky I don't have _your_ paper in front of me." Severus answered, narrowing his eyes dangerously. Draco was opening his mouth to respond but the door was opening before he got the chance. Harry stepped into the room, closing the door behind him and looking between Draco and Severus with annoyance permeating the air around him.

"I didn't realize Draco let you arrive any time you wanted to." Severus said, standing from behind his desk.

"I don't." Draco said.

"I just…" Harry trailed off, his eyes flicking around the room as if he couldn't decide where to look.

"You just what?" Draco asked. "What happened?" Severus scowled, throwing him a disapproving look that he promptly ignored.

"I had a row with Cho about her friend Marietta."

"That was Chang's friend?" Draco asked, raising a hand to cover his smile. "What a shock."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Harry answered. "Cho's not that bad."

"Oh, no," Draco sneered, dropping his hand. "She's just wonderful."

"Funny isn't it," Harry said, tilting his head and letting his blazing emerald eyes match Draco's glare. "You're jealous of Cho, Cho's jealous of Hermione, Hermione says we should just all talk to each other, but when I try, you just sneer at me."

"Hysterical." Draco answered, ignoring the twist of his heart when Harry just shook his head and refused to look at him.

"Well," Severus said, with all his usual tact. "Shall we get started." He'd already placed his memories into the Pensieve off to the side and was standing with his wand drawn, looking at Harry expectantly.

"We're going to spend this lesson with Professor Snape trying to pierce your mind," Draco said. "Now, if you've been practicing all the techniques we've been working on, it should go well." He paused. "Have you had any dreams recently?" Harry bit his lip, and Draco checked his sigh of frustration. It's true, they were making some progress, but it was also true that they weren't making near enough.

He'd been forced to admit to the idea that Severus was right, deep down Harry _wanted_ to keep having the dreams. Probably because of his hero complex, as long as he knew what was going on in The Dark Lord's mind, he could save people, even if that meant losing his own mind in the process.

"On the count of three, Potter," Severus said, raising his wand. "One… Two…"

The door suddenly banged open, making Harry and Draco jump while Severus just looked calmly over as if him pointing his wand as Harry Potter while Draco Malfoy stood watching was normal in everyday circles.

"Professor Snape, sir…." Theodore Nott trailed off, looking between the three of them with some confusion. "Sorry to interrupt, sir."

"Not at all," Severus said, lowering his wand. "Potter's just doing a little remedial potions, is all."

"Remedial Potions?" Theodore raised a skeptical eyebrow. Draco suppressed his wince, wanting desperately to smack Severus. Did it _look_ like they were doing Remedial Potions?

"Yes," Severus answered curtly. "Now, why are you here?"

"Oh, I just came to tell you that Professor Umbridge needs you." He said, his eyes flicking with such triumphant glee that Draco was half convinced he had just been caught in the middle of an orgie. "They've found Montague. He's turned up jammed inside a toilet in the fourth floor."

"And how did he get there?"

"No idea," Theodore shrugged.

"Ah, very well," Severus said. "Potter, we'll continue this tomorrow afternoon. I expect you to be ready to tutor then as well, Mr. Malfoy."

"Oh, uh, Umbridge was looking for Draco as well," Theodore said, smirking widely. "Not that I was, uh, expecting to find him here."

"Of course," Severus scowled and swept out of the room. "Come along, Mr. Malfoy." Draco hesitated and then followed, refusing to allow himself a backward glance at Harry. Theodore smirked at him as if he could guess Draco's thoughts but just sauntered out after them.

Severus led the way up the stairs, setting a brisk pace that made both boys almost jog to keep up. He led them along the corridor, pausing only for a second before pushing open the door to Umbridge's office. She was waiting for them, with Montague seated in front of her and a look of the utmost distaste on her face.

"Ah, Professor Snape," she said, looking up when her door opened. "Very good, Mr. Nott. Oh, and Mr. Malfoy too, Very good, very good."

"What happened, Professor?" Draco asked, moving forward to get a better look at Montague. The former Quidditch Captain was looking around in a daze, gazing at floor with furrowed eyebrows as if he didn't recognize what he was looking at.

"That'll be all, Mr. Nott," Umbridge said. "Thank you."

"Oh, of course, professor," he pursed his lips, looking annoyed for only a moment before ducking out of her office.

"Has he been like this?" Draco asked, waving a hand in front of Montague's face and getting no reaction.

"Oh, he's better now," Umbridge said, waving her hand indifferently. "For a few minutes, he wouldn't even sit up straight, drooling all over my chair as it were." She reached over she desk and took hold of her tea cup. "Now, Professor Snape, I'm very curious to know what you make of this whole situation."

"Madame?" He answered, raising one cool eyebrow.

"Well, how could he have ended up in the toilet?"

"I assure you, I haven't the faintest idea." Severus answered, staring at her with his dark eyes narrowed. Of course, _Draco_ knew he was lying though he was never sure if Umbridge's intelligence was quite high enough such things in other people. Then again, if The Dark Lord didn't know when Severus was truly lying or not, how could Umbridge stand a chance.

"Well," Umbridge sniffed. "I'm convinced it was those pestilent Weasleys. They've done nothing but cause trouble."

"I'm sure you are correct, Madame." Severus said, blinking slowly at her as if emphasizing how little he thought of her opinion. "Now, may I take Mr. Montague up to the infirmary or shall we continue to discuss possible ways he ended up in the toilet?"

"Hmmph." She sniffed again, taking a long drink of tea before answering. "Take him if you think it's best."

"Of course, Madame." Severus bowed slightly, grabbed Montague by the arm and gently pulled him out of the room.

"Strange man, Professor Snape," Umbridge said once the door closed behind him. "You trust him, Draco?"

"You know I don't trust anyone, Professor." Draco answered, immediately.

"Of course, I had forgotten," she answered, letting lose her annoyingly girlish giggle. He suppressed his wince. After the third time he'd heard it, he'd decided it _had_ to be fake, well, everything about her had to be fake. Not including her enjoyment of other people's pain.

"Do you need me for anything else, Professor?"

"No, no," she said, watching him over the rim of her tea. "Run along, Draco." He bowed slightly to her and then turned to leave. He should have known she wouldn't have let him go so easily. "Do you miss being friends with him?" Umbridge called. Draco stopped, his hand about an inch from the door handle.

"Being friends with whom?" He asked, turning his head but not his shoulders.

"Harry Potter, of course. He seems quite devastated that you betrayed him," she let out another girlish giggle. "I was simply wondering if you were equally as affected."

"Of course not," Draco said, throwing scorn into his voice and ignoring the twinge of guilt when he thought of the way Harry had looked at him all week, the way Harry had turned his head every time Draco had insulted him. "I never cared about him. I'm just glad he's not following me around like a lost dog anymore."

"Yes, I'm sure you are." Umbridge laughed. "You know, Draco. You really are your father's son. He would be proud."

"Thank you, Professor," he answered, trying desperately to suppress the shiver that wracked through his body at those words. He let his hand fall on the door handle and push it open, slipping into the hallway and closing the door behind him.

 _Then_ he let himself start to shiver.

He could remember a time that he used to want to be like his father. He could remember when he looked up to his father. When he thought his father was tall and proud and could save him from the world. Draco didn't believe any of those things anymore.

He could still remember the first time Severus had heard him use the word Mudblood. The look he'd given him. The long talk he'd given Draco about right and wrong and why blood shouldn't and didn't matter. It had taken Draco a long time to understand just what Severus was saying but when he did, it had crumbled his whole view of his father, of his life.

How was he supposed to look up to a man that believed in blood purity when blood purity was all shite? How was he supposed to look up to a man who would scrape his knees to the floor for a monster when he claimed to be proud? Draco didn't know the answers to those questions anymore. He hadn't for a long time. And it made him shiver every time he had to pretend that he did. Because if there was anything in this world Draco didn't want to be, it was his father's son.

He hesitated in front of Severus' door. He knew, Severus would be a while longer with Montague, but he also wanted to know what Severus knew. No, he just wanted to talk to Severus in general, stupid, insensitive, brisk Severus. He had overreacted when he'd yelled at Harry; he'd known he had. He'd never wanted to be untrusting and cold, but it was hard when everything he already believed about himself was shoved back into his face.

And it was even harder to forgive.

He'd tried. He really had, but every time he saw Harry looking at him with regret or guilt of something of the sort, the anger and hurt just came rushing back. So, he was civil because he knew he was being petty, but somehow that had only seemed to make Harry angry.

Draco sighed, pushing open the door to Severus' rooms. There was no harm in waiting for him. He stopped short, eyes locking on the Pensieve in the corner of the room. He groaned, crossing the room in three long strides, he grabbed Harry by the arm and yanked him out of Severus' memories. Harry gasped, his green eyes unclouding and focusing on Draco after a moment or so of blinking.

"Seriously?" Draco asked, shaking him hard enough that his glasses slipped down his nose. "Do you have any _idea_ what Severus would have done to you if he'd found you?"

"I-I-," Harry was shaking, looking up at Draco with wide green eyes full of horror.

"Harry?" Draco blinked, and it was just him and Harry, standing in their bubble. And Draco couldn't remember why he was angry with Harry or why he shouldn't touch him. He just knew he was shaking, and he was upset, and Draco wanted—needed—to do something about it. "What happened?" He raised a hand, stroking across Harry's cheek. "What did you see?"

"M-my fa-father," Harry shuddered, and Draco ran this thumb across Harry's cheekbone. Harry's eyes flicked up to him, surprised and confused, and Draco almost pulled away. And then he was relaxing into his touch, his hands clenching down onto Draco's robes. "Why would… Why would they _do_ that?"

"What? What did-?" Footsteps down the hallway interrupted him, and Draco turned his head toward the door and cursed. "Come on," he said, pulling himself out of Harry's grip. "Severus can't know you got into his memories."

"But-."

"Just trust me, Harry," Draco said, holding his hand out. Harry hesitated, locking eyes with Draco for one heartbeat, two… Draco's heart was beating out of his chest as he waited.

"Okay," he said, putting his hand in Draco's.


	17. Part 1: Chapter 17

**_Warning: Draco's point of view this chapter. Just kind of happened that way. Some text from original book. Song from original book._**

Chapter 17- And How Did I Get Here

Draco dragged Harry down the dungeon corridor, narrowly avoiding Severus before they ducked into a classroom and out of sight.

"Harry," Draco said. "Tell me what you saw."

"I…" His emerald eyes flicked up, locking on Draco with a fragile light. "I saw my father. He and Sirius were- they were tormenting Snape." He shook his head, closing his eyes as if remembering was causing him physical pain. "They were acting like a couple of bullies. People _I_ would have hated if I was in school with them." Draco just watched him, knowing Harry just needed him to listen and understand. "And my father was playing with a snitch, ruffling up his hair and _trying_ to make it messy as if he liked all the attention on himself." Harry sighed, picking at his school robes distractedly. "People always say I look just like my father but suddenly that doesn't seem like such a good thing anymore."

"They were just kids."

"So are we!" Harry answered. "So was my mother and _she_ wasn't acting like a couple of bullies on a playground." He sighed again, running a hand through his hair as if to smooth it flat. It struck Draco that his father must have been doing the opposite of that in Severus' memories. "I just… I feel like I suddenly understand why Snape holds such a grudge, is all."

"Severus is good at holding grudges," Draco rolled his eyes. "I wouldn't place all your cards on that table."

"I just never thought I'd feel sorry for him," Harry answered, looking unconvinced. Draco refused to roll his eyes again. For someone who had such a long-standing bad relationship with Severus, Harry sure was convinced to take his side.

"Oh, Merlin, don't let him hear you say that." Draco said, and Harry eyed him warily as if he couldn't begin to understand what Draco meant. "Look, Severus is a complicated person. He's made a lot of wrong choices and brought a lot of the bad that's happened to him on himself. But he's also a good man. A good man that's done a lot of good in his life."

"I didn't think you were that close to him," Harry said, green eyes locking on Draco with an uncomfortable intensity.

"He practically raised me," Draco answered.

"But your father-."

"Anyway," Draco cleared his throat. "I'm just saying that you can't judge anyone by what you saw in that memory. That was only one piece of everything that happened."

"But what my father did-," his expression darkened.

"People change, Harry," Draco insisted. "Your mother married your father for a reason, and I'm sure it wasn't because he was an arsehole."

"I just wish I knew what that reason was." Harry murmured. Draco sighed, but he really didn't have anything else to say to that. Harry would come to terms with his father or he wouldn't.

* * *

The next couple of weeks passed with the most exciting thing that happened being the so called 'flight to freedom' of the Weasley Twins. Umbridge had been furious about their departure while the rest of the student body was been completely overwhelmed with glee that _someone_ had gotten away from her tyranny.

The East wing of the Fifth floor was completely covered in the swamp left behind by the twins and no one was able to actually cross it. Of course, Draco was fairly sure he knew how to remove it, he was also sure by the hidden smiles behind a couple of teacher's hands that they knew too, but he didn't feel the need to tell Umbridge that. Eventually, the corridor was just roped off and students were expected to make their way around as best as they could.

He was only seeing Harry on their Monday night Occlumency practice. He hadn't let Severus anywhere near Harry, partly because he knew Harry wasn't ready and partly because he didn't want Severus to find out Harry had seen his memories. Merlin knew what Severus would do then. Mostly he avoided Harry during the day, knowing he'd be expected to say something foul. Though he did catch himself looking over one too many times when he should have been looking anywhere else. It didn't help that Harry was almost always inevitably looking back at him.

"Do you think we should sing 'Weasley is our King' again?" Pansy asked, probably for the fourth time that week. Draco didn't know why she kept asking; she would do whatever she wanted to do, no matter what _he_ said.

"I don't care," he answered, wrenching his eyes away from the messy raven head bobbing along in front of him.

"You're no fun anymore, Draco," she sighed, latching an arm around his. He immediately sighed and tried to shake her off, but she refused to budge. It was as if she _wanted_ him to hex her until she couldn't use her hands again.

They climbed up into the stands, watching as the quidditch players stood on the field below, getting ready for the game to start. It was the last game of the season, Gryffindor vs. Ravenclaw. And Draco could just spot Harry and Granger two rows down from him, on the very end as if they were expecting trouble and needed to be able to get away fast.

"And he's off," Lee Jorden started narrating, "He's going straight for the goal! He's going to shoot—and—and—" Lee swore very loudly. "And he's scored." Of course, that meant Pansy immediately stood from her seat and began bellowing, followed closely by the rest of the Slytherin house:

 _Weasley cannot save a thing,  
He cannot block a single ring…_

Harry turned his head, looking up and meeting Draco's eyes with those green eyes. Draco immediately looked away, he didn't _need_ to see the judgement there. He knew sitting here was wrong, but it wasn't like he could drop two rows and sit where he _really_ wanted to.

Pansy continued to pelt out the song beside him, laughing as the Slytherin's around her continued the chorus. Draco's eyes flicked down to Harry before he could stop them and—Harry was gone. Draco blinked once, twice, craning his neck. Granger was gone too; their spots empty as if no one had been sitting there in the first place. Draco stood abruptly, almost sending Pansy toppling back from him.

"Draco, what?" She blinked at him, stopping her song mid-word.

"I need to go to the restroom," he said, resisting the urge to wince at such a terrible lie. She blinked again but he didn't wait for her answer before pushing around her and hopping out of the stands. He took the stairs two at a time, his eyes still flitting around and searching for any sign of Harry.

He couldn't have gotten far, Draco had taken his eyes off him for three seconds. _Three seconds._ Nothing could have happened, right? No one was stupid enough to take on Harry _and_ Granger. _Merlin_ , Draco felt his face drain, _unless Umbridge…_ His feet sped up, sending him barreling down the stands and around the side, wrenching himself around so fast he wasn't sure how he'd spot Harry even if he was right in front of him.

Then, he saw him. He was walking—no almost running toward the forest. Granger was right beside him. Draco immediately took off in that direction, cursing Umbridge for all he was worth. What the bloody fuck was she going to do to them that involved taking them to the forest. And, more importantly, why hadn't she told him? Had he been too obvious? Did she suspect him now?

"Hey!" He yelled when he was about ten feet away. "Hey, stop right there!" They turned, Harry's eyes going wide when he realized who was following them. Granger shifted just a little to the side and Draco stopped in his tracks. "Hagrid?" He blinked, looking up at the towering figure that he couldn't believe he'd mistake as Umbridge before.

"I, uh, hello th're Malfoy," Hagrid answered, shifted uncomfortably. "We were just goin' for a walk."

"Into the forest?" Draco raised an eyebrow suspiciously. He took a step forward, reaching in his pocket and wrapping a hand around his wand. Just because Hagrid was supposedly in the order didn't mean Draco would be apposed to hitting him with a good stupefy.

"Draco," Harry sighed.

"Harry, I think you better come back with me, now," Draco said, extending a hand for him.

"I think I'm fine where I am, thanks," Harry answered. Draco tried to hide his flinch, but he knew he didn't fully hide the hurt that flashed across his face. "Draco," Harry immediately stepped toward him, reaching out, his eyes wide and repentant. "I didn't mean…"

"No, no," Draco answered, jerking his chin up and wrenching himself away from Harry's reach. "I suppose I am a little curious where in the forest could be worth a good _walk,_ " he sneered. "Why not risk our lives for it, eh?" He directed his eyes at Hagrid, letting the ice set in. "I sure hope you're exactly who you say you are."

"An' w'at is that suppos' ter mean?" Hagrid asked.

"Only that anyone can Polyjuice into a half-giant, even if imperious is a _little_ bit harder." Draco deepened his sneer, gesturing imperiously for Hagrid to lead the way deeper into the forest.

The half-giant led them _deep_. It was clear by the way the shadows descended upon them and the sun was blotted out that they were far deeper in the forest than Draco had ever wanted to go. Draco was suddenly struck with the urge to run screaming away and never come back. He shivered, looking down at the twisting vines underneath his feet and forced himself to place one foot in front of the other.

Eventually, Hagrid halted, throwing an arm out to stop them. He kept his eyes forward, approaching slowly.

"He's sleepin'," He said after a minute. It took Draco a moment to fully process what he was looking at. Then, he realized how stupid he'd been to go along with coming into the depths of the forest with a crazy half-giant who was determined to get them all killed.

"Are you insane?" He snapped, grasping Harry by the wrist and yanking him around and behind him.

"Hey!" Harry protested, leaning around Draco's shoulder and frowning as if he didn't understand what all the fuss was about. Draco yanked him back again.

"Draco," Harry sighed, but stayed behind him.

"Hagrid, you told us," Granger said, her voice small as if she was just as scared as Draco- not that Draco was scared. "You told us none of them wanted to come!"

"Why _would_ they?" Draco answered. "This is no place for one of _them_?"

"I don't…" Harry whispered, then he paused and became board stiff as if looking at the giant in front of them with new eyes. He released a little gasp of horror, his hand suddenly clasping around Draco's. "He didn't."

"Oh, he most certainly did," Draco answered, narrowing his eyes at the half-giant in front of them.

"You don' und'rstand," Hagrid said. "I couldn' leave him. See—he's my brother!" Silence. Draco felt like laughing at the pure hysterics of it all. He couldn't believe he'd let himself get dragged into all of this. "I jus', I jus' need someone to look after him once I'm gone."

"Okay, that's it," Draco said, turning to leave. His hand was still firmly tangled with Harry's, and he wasn't about to let go. "We're done. I'm not listening to another minute."

"Draco," Harry said, using his hand to pull Draco to a stop. His green eyes were looking up into Draco's with that pleading gleam that he didn't know why he couldn't look away from.

"Do you have any idea how _dangerous_ giants are, Harry?" Draco asked, feeling as if he could be banging his head against a wall for all good it was going to do. "You could get seriously injured."

"I know but… I can't just…" Harry trailed off, exchanging a look with Granger. Draco sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in a way that was becoming far too familiar.

"You can never leave well enough alone, can you?"

"Yeh'll do it, then?" Hagrid asked.

"I… well." Harry said, looking conflicted. "We'll try."

"I knew I could count on yeh, Harry," Hagrid beamed in a way that made Draco want to vomit up his lunch. "I'll just wake him up, then—introduce you—"

"Are you insane!?" Draco screeched, tumbling a step away as if that would stop the stupid oaf. Unfortunately, it actually succeeded in waking the giant faster. He lifted his head with a great roar, rising off the ground and towering over the four of them easily.

"This is Harry, Grawp! Harry Potter," Hagrid was saying. "And this is Draco Malfoy. And-," But the giant had already fixated on Granger, raising his hand as if he was about to grab her. Granger tried to scamper away, but it soon became clear that she wouldn't make it in time. Draco raised his wand in an instant, casting the most powerful stinging hex he knew. The giant immediately yanked his hand away, roaring in annoyance. He shifted himself around, so he was facing a tree, apparently losing interest in them. Granger was still standing there, her eyes wide as she stood shaking and whimpering.

"Alright," Draco said. "That's enough for today. I rather think it's time for us to leave now."

"Uh, I suppos' yeh're righ' at that," Hagrid answered.

* * *

By some strange turn of luck, the Gryffindors had won the cup, turning Pansy into some kind of annoyed monster that snapped at anyone who came too near to her. At least, that gave Draco an excuse to avoid her. He wasn't complaining. He needed all the time he could get to study for his OWLS. They were right around the corner.

Draco steadily ignored his parent's reminders that if he didn't do well, he'd be in serious trouble. He knew he'd do well, and it wouldn't be because of them. Of course, that wasn't the only reason he avoided writing to them. But he just didn't know how to tell them he was in The Order or if he was even supposed to.

"Have you heard the news?" Blaise Zabini said, coming up behind him. Draco raised an eyebrow. He was heading for his last exam, History of Magic. "Umbridge went after Hagrid early this morning."

"Hmm." Draco answered, not surprised. He'd known Umbridge was planning something of the sort.

"The whole Practical Astrology exam saw it happen."

"What?" Draco asked, stopping in his tracks.

"Yeah, apparently, she was trying to be stealthy, but it didn't really work out for her, did it?" He smirked, his eyes flicking over Draco's face as if he could read his mind. Draco shook himself and kept walking. "They even managed to get McGonagall in the cross fire."

"McGonagall?" Draco asked. "Will she be ok?"

"Who can say? Umbridge really crossed a line this time, if you ask me," Blaise laughed and he just managed to keep himself from staring. "Anyway, better get to History of Magic, no?" Draco nodded, keeping his one eyes on Blaise as they walked briskly toward the Great. He was one of the few Slytherin's who had refused to join the Inquisitorial Squad. He usually spoke openly about his dislike of Umbridge but this still seemed a little too dangerous to Draco.

The 5th years filed in, taking their time to be seated as the examiners passed out their tests and answer sheets. Eventually, they started. Draco filled out the answers carefully, making sure his paragraphs made sense and answered every question completely. His eyes flicked up to find Harry's messy dark head, slumped over his table, eyes closed as if he'd fallen asleep. Draco sighed, lowering his head back down to his paper.

And then he heard the scream. He wrenched his head up and just managed to see Harry collide with the ground, still yelling and holding his forehead as if his scar was causing him innumerable pain. Somehow, he managed to stop himself from going over and clutching at Harry as if he was the one that was in pain.

* * *

"I'm finished, Professor, really." Draco insisted, trying to hand his paper in. The Professor just looked at him wearily; Draco supposed he didn't blame him. After dealing with Harry Potter handing in his paper early and unfinished, he wouldn't want to deal with another paper either.

"Mr. Malfoy, are you su-."

" _Yes_ , now may I leave?" Draco answered, exasperated. The Professor sighed heavily but nodded as he took Draco's examination paper. He immediately sprinted from the great hall, just catching a flash of green eyes and black hair. "Harry!" He yelled. Harry froze, turning to look at him with wide eyes. Draco immediately crossed to him, stopping just in front of him.

"Draco? Wha-?" Harry started.

"What happened in there?" Draco whispered, looking around to make sure they were alone.

"I saw-," Harry swallowed harshly. "Voldemort has Sirius."

"You saw this?" Draco asked, his defenses immediately on high alert.

"Yes!" Harry said. "I need to find Dumbledore, I need to-."

"Dumbledore's gone." Draco answered.

"Then McGonagall-."

"McGonagall's in the infirmary. We need to go to Severus."

"What? But-."

"No buts Harry," Draco said, grabbing Harry's wrist and beginning to drag Harry behind him. "Now."

Draco pulled Harry down the stairs and toward the dungeons, his mind in a haze of confused thoughts and emotions. He couldn't believe this was happening. He'd known it was always a possibility but the fact that it was _already_ happening was almost too terrifying to contemplate. Draco wrenched open Severus' classroom door, yanking Harry along behind him. Severus stood from behind his desk, eyeing the two of them warily.

"Harry believes The Dark Lord has Sirius Black in the Department of Mysteries," Draco told him, his voice low and sinister sounding in the dark room.

"Is that so?" Severus said, raising one skeptical eyebrow.

"You need to go now!" Harry answered, his voice echoing across the stone floors. "He's torturing him. He's going to kill-."

"No need to become hysterical, Potter.," Severus sighed, standing from behind his desk. "I will go immediately. Draco, if you will watch over Potter while I'm away." Severus cast him a meaningful look, before sweeping out of the room.

"Draco-," Harry started.

"It'll be fine," he interrupted. He pulled Harry over to a desk, sitting him down gently. "Harry, I need you to be prepared if Severus doesn't find anything."

"I…" Harry blinked at him. "What do you mean?"

"The Dark Lord could just be screwing with your mind."

"No," Harry said firmly. "No, I saw it. I…"

"Harry," Draco said, reaching over to grasp his free hand. "Just promise me whatever happens you won't do anything stupid." Harry's bright green eyes met his, so full of worry and yet somehow still so captivating.

"I promise." Harry answered, squeezing Draco's hand.

It took Severus longer to return than Draco thought it would. And when he came back it was with an annoyed scowl that almost guaranteed good news. Harry stood as soon as Severus crossed the threshold, moving in front of him and waiting expectantly.

"He was safe and sound at home." Severus said. "Nowhere near the Department of Mysteries."

"But-," Harry started to protest.

"Get some sleep, Potter." Draco said. "We're going to start working on your Occlumency daily."

Harry barely had time to nod before Severus shooed them out of his classroom. Harry brushed his hand against Draco's as they passed, sending a tingle through him that lasted all the way to his room. He didn't run into anyone on his way to his room, and the Slytherin commons was empty which struck him as odd, but he didn't think anything of it. He opened the door to his room, feeling drained.

"Hello, Draco," a voice said. Draco flinched, turning on instinct and taking in the sight of his father. He was standing, masked in shadows, his long blonde hair pulled back with his silver cane clasped elegantly in both hands as if it wasn't illegal for him to be here.

"Father," Draco said, tilting his head in acknowledgment.

"I hadn't realized just how close you were to the Potter boy." His father said, taking a single step forward into the light and angling himself between Draco and the door. "My Lord was most annoyed when his trap didn't work this evening. Your fault I take it."

"I'm not afraid of you."

"I'm not the one you should be afraid of, my son."

"I won't help you," Draco insisted, one hand already reaching into his pocket and wrapping around the handle of his wand.

"You misunderstand me," Lucius said. "You don't have to do anything but watch Potter fall."

"That'll never happen," he pulled his wand and aimed it at his father, but Lucius was quicker. He had his wand out in a second and with one swift flick, Draco's wand was across the room and clasped in his father's hand. He blinked and lunged for the door, screaming and hoping anyone might hear him. Lucius just stepped out of the way and laughed as Draco wrenched uselessly at the handle, finding it impossibly locked. "It doesn't matter what you do to me," Draco said, dropping his hands away from the door. "Harry will never do what you want."

"We'll see, my son." Lucius answered, leveling his wand at Draco's face. "We'll see." And this time, he could do nothing but watch as his father cast.


	18. Part 1: Chapter 18

**_Thank you for all the reviews this week._**

 ** _Warning: Text from original story_**

Chapter 18- And is He Gone

Harry had a hard time sleeping that night. He couldn't shake the itch that something was horribly wrong. Even though Snape had said Sirius was fine, he just couldn't _believe_ it. He rolled over in his bed again, trying to ignore the pain radiating from his scar. He knew what he would see if he went to sleep right now. And maybe Draco was right, maybe Voldemort really was just screwing with him, but that didn't stop him from wanting to run straight to the Department of Mysteries and demanding to know where Sirius was.

He glanced over at Ron, making sure he was well and truly asleep before throwing his covers off and placing his feet gently against the floor. He carefully slipped his invisibility cloak on before heading down the stairs into the common room and climbing out in the corridor. If he could just _talk_ to Draco again, he would feel better. He'd probably tell Harry how stupid he was being and say some other cynical comment and that would be that.

Harry sighed as he headed down to the dungeons. Truth be told, he had no idea where he and Draco stood. In public, they were enemies. In private, it seemed as if Draco truly cared about him, but if Harry pushed it too far Draco would close off so fast Harry couldn't even whisper the word oops. It was infuriating.

He stopped in front of the Slytherin dorm, murmuring the password quietly before stepping inside. Being careful to keep his feet concealed, he headed up the stairs and to Draco's Prefect room. Harry knocked quietly, waiting for a moment before frowning at the door. Draco was an extremely light sleeper, he _always_ came to the door when Harry knocked. He pushed on the door, only to find it locked tight. That too was strange, Draco almost never used locking spells to lock his room.

Harry pulled out his wand, pointing it at the door and then stopped himself. He couldn't find it in himself to believe that Draco would like it if he found out Harry had broken into his room in the middle of the night. He was probably out getting coffee… at 3 in the morning. Yes, definitely. What else could he possibly be doing that put him out of his dorm in the middle of the night? Nothing unseemly. Harry's chest throbbed as he turned away and slipped back down the stairs. Of course, Draco was just tired or something. It wasn't like he was locking _Harry_ out or anything.

He slipped his wand back into his pocket and almost ran back to Gryffindor tower.

He didn't sleep at all after that.

* * *

He pretending to get up at the same time that Ron did, making a show of yawning and stretching his arms above his head, ignoring Ron's raised eyebrow and just sauntered to the bathroom without a word. Harry took this as a sign and decided to get dressed himself.

They headed down to breakfast with Hermione at their usual time. Most of the Gryffindors were messing around with each other, joking about the end of the year and talking about their exams. There was an easy spirit what with the end of year and the end of OWLS but Harry just felt disconnected from it all. He could tell Hermione and Ron were looking at him sideways, trying to tell what was off, but he didn't know how to tell them about _this._

Harry's eyes flicked to the Slytherin table without his permission, seeking out that white-blonde hair and those silver-grey eyes that he knew would only hurt him. To find—nothing.

"Is Draco not at breakfast?" Hermione asked, following his gaze.

"How should I know?" He answered, savagely stabbing a piece of turkey onto his plate. She eyed him warily but didn't say anything else. His eyes flicked over to Pansy Parkinson, who was whispering frantically to the boy next to her. In fact, the whole Slytherin table was a mass of whispering bodies, all hunched over each other as if there was some great secret. Harry rolled his eyes and turned to his breakfast, it was just like Draco to cause some great splash like this.

The day continued like this. Harry didn't see Draco anywhere. He was never in the library, he was never in the corridors, he was never by the lake, and he was never with the rest of the Slytherins. _Whoever he's with,_ Harry thought bitterly, _they must be pretty special._

He was sulking alone in the library before he really considered the possibility that something was horribly wrong. A tall, dark-haired boy sat across from him, dropping into the seat and staring at Harry without an ounce of shame. He was obviously a Slytherin with green and silver robes stretched across taught muscles. Harry tried to ignore it, flipping the page of his book that he hadn't really been reading in the first place.

"You Gryffindors really are dense, aren't you?" The boy said after a minute of this.

"What?" Harry started, surprised the boy had actually spoken.

"I've been sitting here for almost 5 minutes and you've not said anything to me," the boy smirked, still staring. "Aren't at least going to ask me what I want?"

"I'm reading," Harry frowned.

"No, you're not," he rolled his eyes, snatching the book out of Harry's hands and tossing it casually across the table and out of reach. "See, not a problem anymore."

"Who-?"

"Blaise Zabini," the boy interrupted. Harry blinked. "And since you seem a little dense, I'm going to clue you in."

"Clue me in…" Harry blinked again, feeling completely lost now.

"Yes," Blaise Zabini sighed, rolling his eyes as if he couldn't believe how dense Harry was. "I'm going to clue you into the fact that Draco Malfoy is missing."

"What? But- that can't-."

"It's true," he said. "He never came out of his dorm last night. And when we went to check, the whole room was a mess, completely covered in dark magic."

"No," Harry shook his head, feeling as if the world was spinning out from under him. "If that's true, why aren't the Malfoy's here? Why isn't the Ministry here?"

"Our esteemed Headmistress Umbridge is keeping it hush-hush. She doesn't want anyone to know," Blaise chuckled darkly. "Wouldn't want anyone to think she wasn't fit to rule."

"Why are you telling me this?" Harry asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

"Now, that's a good question." Blaise raised an eyebrow and then winked. "I think I'll leave it up to you to figure out." He stood, turning away from Harry. "Oh, and one more thing," he stopped and turned his face toward Harry. "Umbridge is looking for you, some nonsense about you being in on the crime." He smirked and shook his head as if he'd never heard anything so ridiculous. "So, if you're going to do something, I'd do it fast." Then he turned and was gone.

Harry watched him go for probably a second too long, trying desperately to process what just couldn't be true. He'd _been_ at Draco's room only last night and- and Draco _hadn't been there_. He felt like smacking himself. How could he have been such an idiot? Draco was probably being tortured by Voldemort right now and he'd been sulking because he had thought...

He scrambled up from his chair and hurried out of the library. He needed to find Hermione and Ron. Hermione would know what to do, he was sure of it. As it turned out, Hermione did know what to do. Not believe Blaise.

"I just don't understand why you've decided to believe him." She insisted. "He could just be lying for Umbridge. There's no proof that anything has happened to Draco."

"But Blaise said-."

"He could have been lying!" Hermione answered. "And even if he's not, where would Draco even be? You'd just be chasing a dead end."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked. "There's only one place he _could_ be. The place I've been dreaming about for months. The place Voldemort tried to lure me to last night."

"What?" Hermione answered. "Vol-Voldemort already tried to lure you out! Harry, don't you see what's happening? You can't-."

"Hermione, I won't let-."

"There's an easy way to find out if Malfoy's really gone or not." Ron said, putting a hand on Harry shoulder as if he was worried, they were about to jump each other.

"What?" Hermione blinked. "How do you mean?"

"I mean, we should sneak into the Slytherin commons and have a look at Malfoy's room. If it's all messed up like Zabini says then that's a point in his favor, right?"

"But Blaise said we need to go _now_ ," Harry answered. "What if Draco-?"

"Harry," Hermione said pleadingly. "Please don't just go barging off. Let's just check before we do anything rash."

"Draco could be being tortured now and we're just going to waste precious time moseying around the castle as if his life isn't worth anything?" Harry asked, his voice rising to a shout with every word.

"That's not-," she stopped when the door to the classroom they'd been hiding in opened. All three of them immediately paled, focusing on the door with wide frightened eyes. Instead, Ginny and Luna came in, looking at them curiously.

"We heard Harry's voice," Luna said, her voice drifting dreamily.

"What're you yelling about, Harry?" Ginny asked, tilting her head as she stared at him.

"Apparently, _nothing_." He said savagely, directing his glare at Hermione.

"Harry, maybe they can help." She said. "We can check Draco's room, but we'll have Luna and Ginny set up look-outs around Umbridge and the other Slytherins so there's no way we can get caught."

" _Draco Malfoy's_ room?" Ginny asked, sounding disgusted. Harry glared, and she cleared her throat, leveling her voice for her next question. "Why do you need to get into there?"

"Okay," Harry answered, ignoring Ginny completely. "Okay, as long as we do this quickly. Otherwise, I'm going to the Department of Mysteries right now."

"The Department of Mysteries?" Luna asked, her voice lilting dreamily. "Why would you go there?"

"Right," Hermione said. "Ok." She began to pace before them, obviously thinking hard. "So, someone needs to go to Umbridge and distract her, keep her in her office no matter what.

"I'll do it," Ron said, smirking evilly. "There are a million questions I could think to ask her."

"Good, okay. Then we need someone else to keep students away from the Slytherin commons while Harry and I sneak in and have a look around."

"Luna and I can stand on either side of the corridor and warn people not to go down there because someone's let off a load of Garroting Gas." Ginny said immediately, and Hermione blinked at her. "Fred and George were planning to do it before they left."

"Okay, so that just leaves Harry and I to go check out Draco's room ourselves."

"Good, I'll meet you by the Slytherin common room." Harry said. "I need to get my dad's invisibility cloak."

"What? Now?" Hermione said, blinking.

"Yes, now!" He answered, feeling like hitting her upside the head. But she just sighed and then nodded, and he dashed out of the room, heading up to Gryffindor tower and fetching his invisibility cloak before sprinting back down to the dungeons. He found Hermione, Ginny, and Luna waiting for him. The corridor was mostly clear with several kids milling around, looking annoyed about the gas Ginny was telling them about. Harry pulled Hermione to the side and they slipped under the cloak, disappearing from sight.

"Let's go," Hermione whispered, leading him toward the Slytherin common room. He quietly whispered the password before they stepped inside. It was disserted because of the 'gas attack' with half eaten food and books strewn across the floor. Harry pulled the cloak off, folding it over his arm and stepping away from Hermione.

"This way," Harry said, heading up the stairs and toward Draco's room. Unlike last night, the door was wide open, revealing the room beyond. The room itself was a disaster with the bedside table overturned and the light knocked over. There was glass strewn across the floor with dried blood sprayed atop it, and Harry had to fight his nausea just looking at it. If all of that belonged to Draco... He stopped that line of thought. But the worst part was the lingering feeling of dark magic in the air. It left a crawling, itching feeling across Harry's skin and made him want to take a shower as fast as he could. He stepped back and out of the room, needing to get away.

"Harry?" Hermione said, following him out of the room.

"I was here last night," he whispered, feeling like he was about to vomit. "I could have- I _should_ have done something."

"You didn't know," she said, reaching out as if to touch him. Suddenly the door to her right opened, revealing Pansy Parkinson. Parkinson paused, her eyes widening as she realized just who was standing in front of her. Her hair was dripping wet, obviously just out of the shower, with a towel pulled tight around her chest and she was opening her mouth as if… She screamed. Not the 'I'm scared to death,' scream, but the 'come arrest these people, scream.'

Harry grabbed Hermione's hand and yanked, dragging her behind him as they ran away from Parkinson, trying to get out of the Slytherin commons before anyone else showed up. Of course, they could never be so lucky. They had barely stepped out of the portrait when two large shadows descended on them. A two meaty hand closed around his arms and Hermione's hand was wrenched out of his. He kicked out but Goyle just grunted and tightened his hold to a painful degree.

"Take their wands!" Theodore Nott said, coming running up from behind, eyes sparkling with dark excitement. Behind him was Ginny, Luna, and Neville? All had been gagged and were held securely by one big brute in Slytherin or another. Nott's smile widened as Goyle dug around in Harry's pocket and then handed over his wand. "Follow me, Professor Umbridge wouldn't want to be kept waiting." He said, waving Crabbe and Goyle behind him as he marched them away.

Nott lead them up the stairs and straight toward Umbridge's office. Goyle manhandled him inside, keeping Harry firmly immobilized as they entered the office. Ron was already inside, bound similarly to Ginny, Luna, and Neville, though Harry and Hermione's mouths were still free.

"We got all of them," Nott said. "That one," he poked Neville viciously, "tried to stop me from taking her so I brought him along too."

"Very good, Nott." Umbridge said, nodded in satisfaction. Then she turned her beady eyes on Harry, focusing on him with a disturbing intensity. "So," She said. "You thought you could trick me, did you? Sending people to keep me occupied, as if I don't see right through the tricks of a Weasley! And then that mess with the Slytherin commons, thanks to Miss Parkinson it was only to easy to catch one and all of you." She laughed heartily. "Yet, I'm curious, Mr. Potter, what exactly were you doing in the Slytherin common room? Clearly, it was important that you got inside but for what purpose? What do you know about Mr. Malfoy's disappearance? How is it connected to Dumbledore? Did he make Mr. Malfoy disappear to make it look like He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was active and back again _inside_ Hogwarts? What do you know?" He blinked, trying to keep the incredulousness of his face. She really was crazy.

"Nothing that's your business," he answered.

"Very well," Umbridge said, her voice sickly sweet. "Very well, Mr. Potter… I have offered you a chance to tell me freely. You refused. I have no alternative but to force you. Theodore—fetch Professor Snape."

Nott smiled wickedly before stashing the wands in his hands and sauntering out of the room. Harry suddenly wanted to smack himself. How had he been such a fool as to not think of Snape? Draco had trusted Snape enough to go to him yesterday. Of course, now Draco himself was missing….

After a moment or two, Nott reentered the room, closely followed by Snape.

"You wanted to see me, Headmistress?" Snape asked, taking in the scene before him without so much as blinking an eye.

"Ah, Professor Snape," Umbridge answered, her smile widening to a grotesque degree. "Yes, I would like another bottle of Veritaserum, as quick as you can please."

"I do not have any more." Snape answered, leveling his dark gaze on her. "I have already told you that you took my last bottle."

"You don't understand," Umbridge said, her girlish façade quivering slightly. "Potter has broken into the Slytherin common rooms. I _must_ interrogate him."

"Really?" Snape said, turning to Harry with mild interest. "The Slytherin common rooms? Does this not seem like something that should have been brought to my attention first?" Harry met Snape's eyes head on, franticly trying to convey the message that Draco was gone. That Voldemort had him. That Snape _had_ to do something about it.

"No," Umbridge answered. "I am handling this."

"As you wish." Snape said. "I shall take my leave then, Headmistress." With that, he turned as if to sweep out of the room.

"They've got my teacher at the place where it's hidden!" He called seconds before Snape's hand touched the door handle. Snape turned his face toward him, raising a single bewildered eyebrow.

"His teacher?" Umbridge said. "Is that Dumbledore? Where what is hidden? What's he going on about, Snape?"

"I have no idea," Snape answered, still looking at Harry with his cold dark eyes. Snape turned away, closing the door behind him with a severe he didn't know why he had ever thought this man would help him.


	19. Part 1: Chapter 19

**_Warning: Some Violence, Torture, Time Skip (See Below), Some text from original; prophecy label from original books. Starts in Harry's POV then moves to Draco's._**

 ** _There is a time skip at the beginning of this chapter. We are skipping over the part where Umbridge threatens to torture Harry and then Hermione tricks her out into the forest to Gwamp. Umbridge is then taken away by Centaurs. Harry, Hermione, Ron, Neville, Luna, and Ginny then proceed to the Department of mysteries and make it through several traps. We are going to pick up almost right when Harry picks up the prophecy. You shouldn't need to know any more but if you have a sudden desire to read that chapter by all means, I encourage you!_**

Chapter 19- And Did You Come for Me

"Bloody Hell," Harry cursed, looking up and down the aisles frantically. "Where is he? Where is he?!"

"Are you sure this is where they'd even take him?" Ginny asked, moved along beside him.

"Yes," Harry answered.

"Harry," Hermione said from a little bit behind them. "Maybe it wasn't Voldemort. Maybe it was just…" She trailed off as she caught sight of his face.

"Just what, Hermione?" He asked. "Just someone _else_ keen on kidnapping? He _has_ to be here!"

"But Harry-."

"Just keep looking!"

"Harry?" Ron's voice called suddenly.

"What?" He answered, heart beating out of his chest as he went to go find Ron. He almost didn't want to find him. Didn't want to see the evidence of what had Ron sounding so strange. Surely Draco wasn't…

"Have you seen this?" He asked, pointing up at one of the glowing white spheres above their heads. "It's-it's got your name on it."

"My name?" Harry frowned, stepping closer to where Ron was pointing. The sphere was covered in dust and it looked as if it had been shelved and then forgotten but somehow underneath all that was a clearly visible tag that read:

 _S.P.T. to A.P.W.B.D._  
 _Dark Lord_  
 _and (?) Harry Potter_

He blinked again and then just stared. What was his name doing down here? He reached out, his fingers instinctively outstretched for the glowing sphere.

"Harry?" Hermione said. "What are you doing? Don't touch it!" Instinctively he knew he should listen. He knew what Draco would say if he saw him now, reaching for something when he had no idea what it did, but he couldn't stop himself. He felt in a trance; the sphere calling to him.

"It has my name on it." He answered, his hand closing around the sphere with a strange click of finality. It was warm under his fingers, slightly buzzing as if answering his touch. Nothing happened, there was no mass explosion or people coming to arrest him by dropping from the ceiling. Instead, his friends pushed closer toward him, trying to get a closer look at the sphere he held between his hands.

"Very good." A voice said from behind them. Harry jumped, whirling around. "Very good, Potter. Now give that to me."

And then suddenly there were Death Eaters all around, outnumbering them. They circled around, blocking them in as if they'd been standing there the whole time. Harry realized by the smirk on Malfoy's face that this was exactly what was happening.

Lucius Malfoy was in full Death Eater robes except his face. And at his feet was his son, Draco. Malfoy had his hand clenched in Draco's hair with his wand pointing directly into his scalp in a clear warning. Draco himself looked horrible. His left eye was black with blood running down his face from a cut right above it and he was sitting at a strange angle, as it he couldn't quite move his right foot.

"What did you do to him?" Harry snarled, anger flashing through him at the sight.

"Nothing really," Malfoy answered with a casual shrug followed by a slow smile. "Now, if you please," he released Draco's hair and held his hand out to Harry, palm up.

"Let him go," he said.

"Now, Potter. I don't think you're in any position to be making demands. Give me the prophecy and I won't touch another hair on poor Draco's head."

"He's lying," Draco whisper, his voice a strangled croak.

" _Crucio,_ " Malfoy twisted his wand into Draco's scalp. Draco screamed. A horrible pain filled sound that Harry never thought he would hear from him. He watched Draco try and wrench himself away from his father and come away completely unsuccessful. Harry cried out, trying to move closer, to do something- anything.

He knew Hermione and Ron were holding him back, keeping him from flinging himself into the ranks of Death Eaters and doing who knows what. Probably getting himself killed. But he didn't care. He had to make Malfoy stop because he simply couldn't stand to watch Draco curl in on himself for a second more. And if he had to give up some stupid prophecy for that, he would do it.

"Now," Malfoy said, releasing the spell with a flick of his wand. Draco slumped, held up only by the hair in his father's hands. "Care to cooperate, Potter?" Harry immediately held out the prophecy, his hand visibly trembling.

"Harry!" Hermione said. Malfoy smiled, reaching forward to close his hand around the glowing sphere in Harry's hands. Suddenly, Harry pulled his hand back a second before it touched Malfoy's hand.

"Potter." Malfoy said.

"You have to give me Draco."

"Harry, don't," Draco said. "It's not worth it."

"I need your word," he insisted.

* * *

The fool was really going to do it. He was really going to sacrifice the world just for Draco. Now, Draco wasn't going to lie, it was kind of nice. In a horribly stupid what the fucking hell do you think you're doing kind of way, but still didn't Harry realize the kind of position that put _Draco_ in. Seriously, how could he be so selfish?

Now, Draco was going to have to fix Harry's stupidity _again_. And this time he was supposed to do it while he was half-dead. _Thank a bunch, Potter,_ he thought, really hoping Harry would somehow get the message.

He shifted his weight, trying to maneuver his broken ankle out from under himself. Pain spiked through his body, making him almost double over as black spots clouded his vision, but he managed to stay upright, watching as his father considered Harry. He would never give him to Harry, but he _would_ lie to get the prophecy.

"Very well," Lucius said. "Draco in return for the prophecy." Harry, the bloody fool, reached his hand out, ready to just sign their death warrant off to The Dark Lord.

Draco leaned forward as far as he was able and struck, sending the prophecy tumbling out of Harry's hand and colliding with the floor. It shattered across the ground, breaking into a thousand tiny fragments on the floor. Everyone stared, not seeming to know what to do with this new development. Draco _felt_ like rolling his eyes except his head was already hurting enough, thank you very much.

He flicked his eyes toward a very startled Hermione Granger, locking eyes with her and flicking them toward the nearby shelf. Thankfully, Granger understood, immediately drawing and pointing her wand at the shelf above the Death Eaters and shouted _"Reducto!"_ The shelf wobbled once and then began to collapse. Harry shook his head, blinking twice and then widening his eyes with a look of horror plastered across his face. Suddenly he reached forward, yanking Draco away from Lucius and toward him with a single pull. Draco collided with his chest, letting out a cry of pain that echoed in the space around them.

"Get them!" His father screamed, causing the shudders already wracking Draco's body to suddenly intensify.

"Let's go!" Girl Weasley said, beginning to run down the aisle. Draco took a single step, winced and couldn't stop his broken ankle from collapsing on itself.

"Here," Granger said, pointing her wand and casting a feather-light charm on him. "Harry, carry Draco, we need to go." Harry gave him one awkward look before turning and offering his back for a pigging back ride.

"How romantic," Draco muttered.

"What?" Harry asked, turning his head back to look at him. Draco just shook his head and climbed on board.

Every step was agony in his bones. It started in his ankle and moved up through every muscle, ending somewhere in the mess that was supposed to be his head. He didn't even remember the number of times his father had _crucioed_ him, he didn't _want_ to remember. But he knew his body was certainly not in any shape to be running around and fighting.

"There!" Granger called, pointing to a door that stood ajar before them. They slipped through the door behind Longbottom, and Harry slammed it, watching as Granger magically sealing the door. Draco felt like pulling his hair, why the fuck had he waited for Granger to do it for him?

"Granger," Draco said, slipping off Harry back with a wince. "Give me your wand."

"What?" She hesitated, and he sighed, turning to Harry and holding out his hand. Harry immediately placed his wand into Draco's outstretched palm and he faced the door, muttering a complicated locking spell that Severus had taught him. A spell that he _knew_ he father didn't know how to counter.

"Hold on," Harry said. "Where are the others?"

"They must have gone the wrong way!" Granger answered, heading toward the door as if she would leave.

"What are you doing?" Draco said, limping in front of her. "You're not going out there."

"We can't just leave them," Longbottom answered.

"Us going out there will only put them in more danger," he said, feeling exasperated. Was he the only one here with common sense? No wonder Harry was completely determined to get himself killed. Suddenly, there was a loud bang on the door, making all of them flinch. The nob turned, stopped, and then tried to turn again before going still.

"Draco, I know you're in there." Lucius' voice called out. "You're the only one of these brats who could possibly know this spell." A pause. "I have some of your friends out here, the pretty blonde-haired one. You don't want me to hurt her, do you?"

"No!" Harry said, stepping closer to the door.

"It's a bluff." Draco said, his hands beginning to tremble. His father couldn't have...

"Come now," Lucius' voice cut through Draco's defenses, slicing them open in the way only he could. "I know what you're thinking. But I _can_ and _did_ catch one of your friends." A pause. He stepped toward the door and then away again. It was just a trick. He couldn't let Lucius get in his head. "Draco are you willing to take the chance that it's a bluff? Just come out and no one needs get hurt. Especially, not your precious, Potter." Draco flinched. There was a long pause and he could almost hear the satisfaction in his father's voice when he spoke again. "If not… _Crucio._ " There was a loud scream outside the room, and Draco was moving before he could stop himself, shoving the door open and coming face-to-face with his father. Lucius smirked cruelly, pulling his wand away from the Death Eater who was picking himself up and brushing his robes off. He stepped back, he'd been fooled, so easily. "You always were too sensitive, Draco." Lucius smirked.

"I was, wasn't I?" He sneered. "Well, at least, I know I didn't get that from you. _STUPIFY!"_ Harry's wand responded beautifully to him, knocking his father off his feet and making him drift into a hopefully restless unconsciousness. Longbottom and Granger were right behind him, stunning Death Eaters as if they'd been training to do it. And suddenly he was extremely glad that Harry had been breaking the rules the whole school year. Unfortunately, they weren't completely successful.

"No!" Harry yelled. Draco whirled around to find Longbottom standing in front of Dolohov while Harry leaned over a very unconscious Granger.

" _PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!"_ Draco yelled, making Dolohov's limbs snap together and then sending him to the ground. He immediately moved toward Harry was leaning over Granger. Longbottom followed him over, kneeling down beside them and taking Granger's wrist between his fingers.

"Are you alright?" Draco asked. asked, touching Harry's cheek with his fingertips.

"I'm fine, but Hermione…"

"She has a pulse," Longbottom said. Draco wondered vaguely what he was doing, but decided it was better not to ask.

"Your wand, I shouldn't have taken it." Draco told Harry, reaching to hand his wand back, but Harry just shook his head.

"Keep it. I'll use Hermione's." His lips twitched slightly though his eyes were still focused on Granger. "It suits you." Draco stared at him for a long moment before he retracted his hand, wondering at him.

"What did they even want?" Longbottom asked, his voice pitching with a combination of fear and anger. "The Prophecy is broken, we can't give them anything else."

"Revenge," Draco muttered. "You've no idea what The Dark Lord will do to them now that they've failed. The least they can do is destroy us along with the prophecy."

"But-," Harry started, frowning over at Draco.

"Harry," Longbottom said, shifting uncomfortably. "We need to go before they come back."

"What?" Draco answered. "No, we need to hide. Eventually, they'll give up and leave."

"What about the others?" Harry answered, his green eyes blazing with that heroic fury that Draco _hated._

"It's not _our_ responsibility to save them." Draco said, standing and desperately trying to hide his wince.

"We can't just leave them behind!" Harry said, standing to get in his face.

"It's not your responsibility to save everyone, Potter!" Draco snapped, releasing all of his pent-up frustration and hoping he would see just how foolish he was being. He blinked, stepping away from Draco as if just realizing how angry he truly was.

"I don't… I don't understand."

"I know you don't," Draco answered, pinching the bridge of his nose. Now wasn't the time to lose his temper. "Look, there has to be a way to get help. It does us no good to run in blindly."

"Right you are, Cuz." A voice said, echoing around them. They turned, coming face-to-face with Nymphadora, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and…

"Harry!" Sirius Black exclaimed, surging forward to clasp Harry to his chest.

"We were worried about you, Draco." Nymphadora said. "Couldn't agree were to look though until Snape told us what Harry said to him."

"What? What did you tell Severus?" Draco whirled on Harry.

"I…" Harry answered, turning away from Sirius Black. "I told him you were here but he… he didn't believe me, he said…"

"You were with Umbridge, of course Snape couldn't let on he knew what you were talking about." Kingsley answered, looking at them with slight annoyance if concern. "Why didn't you just wait for The Order?"

"Why indeed?" Draco said, his teeth clenching almost painfully. Which wasn't helping the pain this pulsing through his head. But, bloody hell, why couldn't Potter ever do the sensible thing instead of running around _asking_ for death.

"It doesn't matter now," Sirius Black interrupted. "Well take it from here, you four get to safety."

"But what about the others?" Longbottom asked.

"There are others down here too?" Kingsley asked, looking slightly horror struck.

"Ron, Ginny, and Luna," Harry answered.

"Just get to safety," Nymphadora said. "We'll make sure to get them."

"But-."

"Now, Harry," Draco said, grabbing his sleeve and yanking. Harry stumbled, and Draco lost his balance with him, his broken ankle colliding painfully with the ground. Draco let out a strangle yell before collapsing onto his butt. He glared up at Harry, hoping his indignation was showing quite clearly.

"What? What's happened?" Nymphadora asked, leaning over him with a motherly air.

"I'm fine," he answered, his voice barely coming out as a strangled hiss. "Just go do something useful." She made a face but did what he told her. Sirius Black gave Harry one last wink before leaving them behind to go chase after Nymphadora and Kingsley.

"Let's go," Draco said, rising to his feet with a suppressed wince.

"You can't walk," Harry answered quietly.

"I'll carry Hermione, and you carry him," Longbottom said, already reaching down to clasp his hands under Granger's ribcage and lifting her up and over his shoulder. Harry hesitated and then nodded, offering his back as a piggy back for Draco again. Draco climbed back up and they took off in the opposite direction that his father had used to drag him in.

This time felt longer than the first. He knew Harry wasn't trying to hurt him, but he wasn't exactly doing a great job at not hurting him either. It was funny, even with the pain lacing through him, Draco really thought they would make it out. They were right at the exit to The Ministry of Magic before The Dark Lord showed up, standing right in the middle of the corridor as if he didn't have a care in the world. His black hood was pushed down, revealing his snakelike face and red eyes that almost glowed as he glared malevolently at them.

And Draco suddenly felt like crying. The back of his eyes stung as he slid down, trying to stand as best as he could. He couldn't believe this was happening, they had been so close only to die at the very exit. It was almost too cruel.

"Ah, Harry, Draco." The Dark Lord said, his voice echoing around them.

"We don't have the prophecy." Harry said. Draco looked at him out of the corner if his eye, feeling awe for the boy beside him. While he could only think of cowering before the man, the man that wasn't even human before them—Harry was standing there like he wasn't even afraid, his chin held high and his voice steady. He walked through danger without a second thought to his own safety on a daily basis; was there anything he was afraid off?

It was really no wonder he had enthralled Draco.

"Yes," The Dark Lord answered, his red snake eyes turning toward Draco. "I know of Lucius' failure." His lip curled on the word, voice twisting with disgust. His wand hand twitched, raising ever so slightly and Draco reacted before he really knew what he was doing.

" _AVADA KEDAVRA!"_ He yelled, sending the ball of green energy hurling through the air toward The Dark Lord. Who was no longer there. Harry stared at him, eyes wide and full of horror but he simply couldn't bring himself to regret his actions, no matter what Harry might think of him.

" _Crucio_." He heard, about an inch from his ear. He flinched, preparing for the inevitable pain that was going to assault his body but instead Longbottom was the one who screamed, dropping to the floor with Granger on top of him. "Dear Draco, did you really think that would work?" The Dark Lord asked, stepping around Longbottom and twirling the taken wand around in his hands. With a brisk snap he broke Longbottom's wand in three different pieces, dropping them unceremoniously onto the ground. Longbottom winced and shook his head as he cradled Granger's unconscious body close to him.

"Bastard!" Harry growled, stepping forward and raising his wand with a snarled Expelliarmus. The Dark Lord raised his wand, easily summoning a shield and blocking Harry's spell and then Draco's. He was dancing around them as if it was nothing to him. Finally, he slashed his wand toward Draco, knocking his feet out from under him. Draco let out a strangled scream as his ankle twisted. His wrist hit the ground with a snap and Harry's wand rolling across the ground, out of his reach.

"Draco!" Harry called, stepping toward him and losing his focus. The Dark Lord struck before Harry even had a chance, pointing his wand and muttering a spell that filled Draco with dread.

"NO!" He yelled, scrambling over and catching Harry before his head could hit the floor. The dust rose up around them, encasing them in a sheath of debris but all Draco could think about was the boy with the dazzling green eyes in his arms. The boy who he was about to lose.

"Harry, don't leave." He said, clutched his hands around Harry's shirt and refusing to let go. Though he knew it was too little, too late. He'd _felt_ Harry's mind, he would never be able to stop The Dark Lord once he got it in his mind to start possessing him. "You can't leave. You… Yo-you can't." That's when he realized he was crying. Not just crying, sniveling with sobs wracking through his body.

"Harry Potter can't die, that's just not how it's supposed to happen." He bent his head low over Harry's, whispering the words as if to speak louder would somehow break the little cocoon of time that held them. "You're supposed to do stupid things and- and be hurt," he hiccuped, burying his next sob in Harry's chest. "Even terribly hurt. But never die. Never that. And you're supposed to grow old with some- some woman you love." His hands tightened, fingernails clawing into skin in a way that had to hurt but he just _couldn't_ bring himself to stop. "And have twenty perfect children and never think of me again... But that's o-o-ok because at least you'll be..." He couldn't say it. Saying it would make it true. And it simply couldn't be true.

"And I know I'm horrible, but I'm supposed to be. I'm not supposed to cry over you. I'm not supposed to feel like I'm dying because you..." He clenched his eyes shut. "I'm not _supposed_ to love you, Harry Potter. But fuck you, I do, and I don't know how to keep going if you let yourself be taken over by _him_."

He felt Har- _his_ eyes flutter against his skin. Draco clenched his eyes closed tighter, burying his head in _his_ chest. He simply couldn't see Voldemort's eyes in Harry's face.

 ** _Stick around folks for the last chapter of Part 1._**


	20. Part 1: Chapter 20

**_Warning: Some text from original book, references to torture_**

 ** _This is the end of Part 1, you guys. I'd like to dedicate this last chapter to vapourtrailreads for being so supportive on this journey from the very beginning. You're amazing._**

 ** _Thank you all for the reviews after last chapter._**

Chapter 20- And Have I Lost You

Harry's mind felt like it was on fire. His scar had split open and he was dying on the floor. He had to be. He couldn't possibly be living through this pain. It was surely ripping him open and sending him down to the darkest pit of hell. And he would take that hell for the chance to make the pain to stop. He could _feel_ his mind losing its grip on reality. He could _feel_ himself losing his grip on his identity. And he didn't even care, not so long as the pain ended soon.

"Harry, don't leave," a strangely familiar voice echoed suddenly through his mind. Unfortunately, it only distracted him for a second before he was drawn back down again, drowning, drowning, unsure which way was even up anymore. He just wanted it to end, he would do anything to make it end…. "You can't leave. You… Yo-you can't." Something cold and wet dropped onto the place where his face was supposed to be. His mind started. Was he crying? No... That didn't feel right... And then the pain rippled through his scar with unimaginable force, making his curiosity die down again.

"Harry Potter can't die," the voice echoed through his mind. Was that his name? Harry Potter. It sounded right, bouncing around in his skull with a meaning. "That's just not how it's supposed to happen. You're supposed to do stupid things and- and be hurt," the voice broke, sending a different kind of pain lacing through his chest. He didn't _want_ the voice to hurt, whatever it was. "Even terribly hurt. But never die. Never that. And you're supposed to grow old with some- some woman you love." Hands tightened against his skin, sending a fresh wave of pain through him. He tried to withdraw but the voice was talking again before he could. "And have twenty perfect children and never think of me again..." He suddenly wanted to pull away from the voice that felt like it was yanking out his heart. His heart that just seconds ago he had been convinced was already gone. What it was saying certainly didn't _sound_ right anymore. "But that's o-o-ok because at least you'll be..." The voice stuttered off as if it couldn't say whatever it was trying to.

"And I know I'm horrible, but I'm supposed to be. I'm not supposed to cry over you. I'm not supposed to feel like I'm dying because you... I'm not _supposed_ to love you, Harry Potter." He felt himself wrench, the pain in his mind diminishing almost completely. "But fuck you, I do, and I don't know how to keep going if you let yourself be taken over by _him_." And suddenly, his mind clicked back into place, shoving aside the pain as if it was nothing next the voice permeating through him. He knew exactly who and where he was.

He was Harry Potter and he was horribly in love with Draco Malfoy, who—the bloody git—actually loved him back.

He felt Voldemort shift uncomfortably in the back of his mind and Harry gave one last shove, thinking of all the things he had to live for, of all the people he loved and had come to love him. And then the pressure in his mind was gone.

He felt Draco on his chest, the front of his shirt soaked as if Draco had been crying. Harry opened his eyes and tried to look down at him, but he just curled his hands tighter, fisting the material like he was afraid Harry was going to up and run away.

"Draco," Harry whispered, reaching out to touch him. Draco immediately jumped up, flinching away from his touch with such fear in his eyes that Harry couldn't help but feel stung. "Draco, it's me," Harry whispered softly.

"Are you alright, Harry?" Dumbledore's voice said. Harry started, just realizing Dumbledore was even there. And not just Dumbledore but the Atrium was full of people, bursting one at a time through the fireplaces along the walls. Neville shifted just behind Dumbledore, still cradling Hermione in his arms.

"He was there!" Someone was suddenly saying and then Cornelius Fudge was stepping through the crowd. "I saw him, it was You-Know-Who, I swear, he grabbed a woman and Disapparated!"

"Draco," Dumbledore murmured, pulling something small and golden out of his pocket. "I need you to get Harry, Neville, and Hermione out of here immediately. I will be joining you in my office in about 30 minutes. Do you understand?" He pointed his wand at the golden thing in his hand and muttered: _"portus_ ," watching as it glowed blue before tossing it to Draco and turning to face Fudge. Draco immediately came over to Harry, keeping his eyes pointedly away from him.

"It's a port-key," Draco said, holding it out for Harry to take hold of, while waving Neville over. "Grab hold." Neville hesitated before reaching out and wrapping his fingers around the little golden hand watch in Draco's hand. Neville clutched Hermione tighter to him before reaching out to grab hold of the object in Draco's hand too. Almost immediately, he felt the familiar tugging sensation below his navel as they were launched through space.

They landed with a bang, Harry's feet colliding painfully with the ground. Draco cried out beside him, his knees buckling as his broken ankle gave out under him. Harry grabbed hold of him, clutching at his robes and cradling Draco close to his body. He cursed himself for forgetting Draco's injuries, for forgetting what had happened to him.

"We need to get you help!" He said, looking around for some way to easy Draco's pain. Harry turned, only to realize where he actually was. Dumbledore had sent them straight to his office, looking like it had been completely untouched since he'd left it in a blaze of glory.

"I'm fine," Draco answered.

"Right," Harry cursed. "I- right."

"Really," Draco sighed, his breath ghosting across Harry's neck as he winced again. "Potter, stop panicking and set me down, will you?" Strangely enough, it was the sound of Draco scolding him that gave Harry the ability to calm down and focus. He turned Draco around, dragging them across the room and setting him gently down into one of the chairs across from Dumbledore's desk. "Careful," Draco winced as Harry bumped his ankle again. Neville followed his example with Hermione, placing her carefully in the chair next to Draco.

They milled around the office for a long time no one saying anything before the fireplace lit up into emerald flames and Dumbledore stepped out, followed immediately by Sirius. Dumbledore ignored him at first, choosing to walk toward his desk and place a featherless Fawkes down on his perch. Sirius, however, came right over to Harry. He hovered, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder and looking down at him with a slight frown marring his features.

"Sirius," Dumbledore said. "Please take Neville and Hermione to the infirmary while I speak with Draco and Harry."

"But-," Sirius started to protest.

"Please, Sirius," Dumbledore raised a hand. "Hermione is in need of medical attention." Sirius grumbled but helped haul Hermione up before leading Neville to the door and out of the room. It was silent for several minutes before Dumbledore spoke again, fixing his eyes on Harry with a sad sort of smile. "Well, Harry. You will be pleased to hear that no one is going to suffer lasting damage from the night's events."

"Except maybe Draco!" Harry couldn't help but mutter. Dumbledore just looked at him, his smile dropping to be replaced by something that looked remarkably like sadness.

"Harry," Draco said, shifting in his chair, and wincing quietly. "I knew what I was signing up for."

"Really?" He asked. "You knew your own father would torture you to get to me?"

"I know how you're are feeling, Harry," Dumbledore said, his hands flat against the desk in front of him. And Harry's anger swelled. All he could see was Draco kneeling in front of his father, the wand pointed toward him, hearing his screaming, and wondering how many times that had happened before he'd arrived. He would wonder that for the rest of his life.

And Dumbledore had the audacity to sit there and say he _understood_ how Harry was feeling?

"You don't know anything!" Harry said, his fists clenching so hard that his fingernails bit into the skin of his palms.

"Harry, enough!" Draco answered. Harry flinch, turning to face him reluctantly. "You're behaving like a child." Draco scolded, but this time it wasn't enough to calm him down. Not when he saw how Draco's body was visibly trembling as he tried to keep himself upright. Not when he saw how Draco had to clutch at the arms of his chair to keep himself from falling out of it.

"I don't CARE!" Harry said, knowing he wasn't really mad at Draco but not being able to stop himself from yelling anyway. "I don't care if I'm acting like a child! It's _his_ fault." He turned suddenly to Dumbledore. "This is your fault. YOURS. You're the one that left him out to dry when he- he needed help. When he-."

"You're correct." Dumbledore said, easily breaking through Harry's torrent of accusations. "This was my fault."

"What?" Harry visibly flinched, reeling back from the Headmaster in shock.

"If I had been open with you, Harry, as I should have been, you would have known a long time ago that you should never go to The Department of Mysteries. You would have known a long time ago what exactly was waiting for you there." He said, and Harry blinked, his mouth bobbing as he tried to comprehend what Dumbledore was saying. "Now, please, sit down, Harry." He blinked, hesitating before he took a step back and did what he was told.

"That's not-," he tried, but Dumbledore was talking again before he could finish what he was saying.

"And you, Draco," Dumbledore said, turning to him. Draco looked back, shifting warily in his seat as if he half expected Dumbledore to attack him. "I owe you a much more severe apology. I should never have let my guard down enough that Lucius was able to get his hands on you. I should have foreseen that Lord Voldemort would see and use your connection with Harry when you stopped him from falling into his first trap. I am truly sorry for what you've suffered." Draco turned his face away and cleared his throat before speaking as if no one had ever apologized to him. After seeing the horrible way that his father treated him, Harry could just believe it.

"It was nothing." He said. "I'll be fine."

"And yet," Dumbledore said, his face solemn. "I must apologize again and ask that you repeat this nothing for us."

"What?" Harry said. "But he-."

"My father was waiting for me in my room." Draco interrupted, his voice flowing smoothly as if the words meant absolutely nothing to him. Though Harry could tell it true by the way he kept his face turned away from them. "He told me he knew what I'd been doing. How he knew, I've no idea. He never said. Probably the only smart thing he's ever done. He-."

Draco swallowed harshly, and Harry reached out, clasping his hand around his wrist and squeezing. Draco's head whipped around, looking at Harry with eyes wide and for a full second, it was easy to see the pain and surprise. Then Draco's mask was back, and he turned his head away again though his fingers curled back around Harry's, squeezing tight.

"How did he get in?" Dumbledore asked gently.

"Umbridge," he answered. "He told Umbridge how I was fooling her, said he was picking me up to discipline me." He let out a bitter chuckle. "There was something about using my disappearance to blame Harry and you," Draco shrugged. "I wasn't really listening."

"And then what happened?"

"I-," his hand twitched, his voice never faltering for a second before he strengthened it again. "I don't remember much of it. I remember pain and darkness. I remember my father bringing me to The Department of Mysteries. I remember several of the Death Eater's playing with me, testing out their _crucioes,_ they said." Draco shivered violently, his whole body wracking as if it were remembering the pain he was trying to suppress. "I almost got away once, that was when my father broke my ankle. Other than that…" he shrugged. "They were mostly just waiting for Harry to show up."

"Draco…" Harry tried, leaning toward him.

"Don't," Draco answered, turning his face away. "It doesn't matter." But it did. It mattered more than Harry could ever express.

"Thank you, Draco," Dumbledore said. "Now, I think you should be heading down to the infirmary. I'll call up Severus-."

"No."

"Draco," Dumbledore sighed. "You need your rest. You cannot continue on in this condition for very much longer."

"No," Draco answered. "I want to stay."

"Draco, I assure you-."

"That's not good enough," he narrowed his eyes, his hand clenching almost painfully around Harry's. "I'm staying."

"Very well," Dumbledore sighed heavily, shifting his gaze to Harry and waiting for the boy to look back at him. Eventually, Harry did. Draco wasn't about to return his gaze anyway. "Now, Harry. I owe you an explanation as you have no doubt surmised." Harry remained silent. "I guessed, fifteen years ago, when I saw the scar upon your forehead, what it might mean. I guessed that it might be a sign of a connection forged between you and Voldemort. And this ability of yours has become more and more pronounced since Voldemort returned to his own body." Harry opened his mouth to object, he couldn't for the life of him understand why Dumbledore was telling him things he already knew.

"After you saw Weasley being attacked, we were worried about the possibility of possession," Draco said, interrupting what Harry was about to say.

"I remember," Harry frowned.

"Indeed, our fear was well founded," Dumbledore answered. "Many times, your trust in Draco was of overwhelming use in keeping you safe."

"Wait!" Harry said. He pulled his hand out of Draco's grasp, suddenly feeling hurt and manipulated. "Are you saying you only got close to me, so you could spy for The Order?"

"What?" Draco blinked once and then seemed horror struck, but it was gone in the next second, his expression closing off with an audible snap. "You've got that all backwards, Potter." He sneered, his lips twisting cruelly. "I joined The Order _because_ I cared about you. But, hey," he shrugged. "It's always nice to know what people actually think of me."

"In any case, Draco was _not_ spying on you." Dumbledore said. He looked tired, his eyes flicking between them with something like sadness. "In every situation, he advocated for your complete privacy. He also wanted you to have this information from the very beginning."

"What information?" Harry answered. "You still haven't told me."

"Five years ago," Dumbledore began. "You arrived at Hogwarts, Harry, safe and whole-." Draco snorted, his body trembling visibly as the sound traveled through him. "Yes, Draco's skepticism is warranted." Dumbledore sighed. "And you might as well ask why you couldn't have been sent to a wizarding family who would have treasured you and raised you as their own and the answer is that my priority was to keep you alive. When your mother died, she gave you a lingering protect, a protection that flows in your veins to this day."

"I don't understand-."

"It's a blood ward," Draco said, rolling his eyes at Dumbledore. "When she died, your mother cast a blood ward on you and being under the roof of your blood relatives keeps you safe as long as you're with them."

"But why do I need that protection." Harry asked. "Why did Voldemort try to kill me in the first place?"

"Voldemort tried to kill you when you were a child because of a prophecy made shortly before your birth. However, he did not hear the full prophecy and since his return he has been seeking assiduously for just that." Dumbledore said, and Harry blinked once, twice, three times. Trying to get his head around the idea that Voldemort had been trying to kill him—his parents had died—for a prophecy. So much for bad luck, so much for letting others fight his battles as Draco so desperately wanted.

"I have the prophecy, if you would like to hear it," Dumbledore's soft voice said, breaking Harry out of his trance.

"What? But it's smashed, Draco broke it so Lucius' wouldn't get it."

"No, that was merely the record kept by The Department of Mysteries," Dumbledore assured, standing and walking across the room. "The person who heard it has the means to recall it perfectly."

"And who heard it?" Draco asked, his head tilting curiously.

"I did," Dumbledore answered, pulling out a draw and lifting out a rune carved basin. A Pensieve. He walked back over to his desk set it down. Then he waved his wand around his temple, withdrawing a silvery, gossamer-fine strands of thought and placed them into the Pensieve.

Everyone stared at it, entranced, watching as the shawl draped figure of Sibyll Trelawney spoke.

 _The one with the power to vanquish The Dark Lord approaches… Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies… and The Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power The Dark Lord knows not… and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives… the one with the power to vanquish The Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…_

Trelawney slowly sank back down into the swirling silver mass, leaving the room in a deafening silence. Harry leaned back in his chair, he really felt like he couldn't breathe. It was bad enough when he felt so overwhelmed, he needed to take time to not make a sound and process, but when _everyone_ else in the room did it too, he knew it was bad.

"It can't be true," Draco said. Harry turned to him. Draco's face had gone deathly pale, his breathing unsteady and Harry was truly concerned about him. "Trelawney is a fraud. Everyone knows that!" Draco stood abruptly, wobbling where he was and shouting at Dumbledore. "It's not true!"

"I assure you, it's quite true." Dumbledore answered, and Draco sat down heavily next to him, burying his face in his hands.

"Its-," Harry said, his voice sounding rough in his own ears. "It's talking about me, isn't it?"

"Why?" Draco asked suddenly, not bothering to lift his face from between his hands. "Why couldn't The Dark Lord just leave it alone? Why attack a baby?"

"Draco," Dumbledore said heavily, looking over his speckles at the boy in front of him. "You already know the answer to that."

"Yes," Draco answered, looking up to glare. "And it worked out so well for him, didn't it?"

"Yes, well. Voldemort didn't know you," he turned to Harry. "would possess the 'power The Dark Lord knows not'-."

"What power?" Harry asked, feeling the sudden urge to run screaming from the room. He couldn't do this. He wasn't special or particularly talented. How was he supposed to face Lord Voldemort and _win?_ "I don't have any power?"

"Ah, but you do," Dumbledore said quietly. "You have your heart. Why do you think Voldemort fled from your mind when he was attempting to possess you?" Harry let out a breath, not sure if that was near enough to appease him but at the same time, completely unsure of what he was supposed to say against it. In fact, he wasn't sure of what he was supposed to _do_ about any of this.

"And what about the rest of it?" Draco asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "The…. the 'neither can live while…" Draco made a strangled sound and looked helplessly up at Dumbledore. Harry felt the sudden urge to say something, but he didn't know what. He didn't even know what to say to comfort himself.

"Does that mean…. that one of us has got to… kill the other…. in the end?" Harry asked.

"Yes." Dumbledore answered, and Harry had to ignore the stifled sound Draco made in the back of his throat.

* * *

Draco spent about a week in the infirmary with Snape watching his every move and forcing potions down his throat. Harry tried to talk to him several times but when he showed up, Draco was either asleep or Severus was with him.

On the other hand, as Dumbledore had said, everyone else Harry had dragged with him into The Department of Mysteries seemed to be doing fine. He learned Ginny had broken her ankle, but Madame Pomfrey flicked her wand and she was up and walking within the hour. Ron had been cursed with some kind of _confundus_ charm, but he too was an easy fix. The only other real problem was Hermione, however, even she was out of the infirmary in a matter of days.

Harry learned that The Ministry was officially dropping the charges against Sirius, spouting some nonsense about having known all along he wasn't to blame. They'd also officially accepted the idea that Voldemort had indeed returned, going back to praising Harry as The Boy Who Lived and naming him once again as their savior.

Harry, however, couldn't care less about any of that. He honestly just wanted to talk to Draco. It had been a week and he still hadn't been able to ask the other boy about what he'd heard when Voldemort was possessing him. He didn't even know if he'd really heard it or if his mind was just creating things when he thought he was going to die. His chest hurt at that very idea.

And when Draco was finally released, he didn't know what he expected. Maybe Draco to at _least_ come and find him. But he didn't. So, Harry found himself trudging up to the infirmary like he did every day, but this time when he walked in, Draco's bed was empty. He stopped dead, staring at it and feeling panic shoot through him.

"He's been released," Madame Pomfrey said, looking up from the bed she was making to cast Harry a quizzical look. "Didn't he tell you?"

"I…" Harry trailed off, still staring at Draco's now empty bed. "Of course, I just forgot." Then he turned and left, feeling tears prick at the back of his eyes. What had he done so wrong? Would it have been so hard for Draco to just _talk_ to him, for even a minute? His feet unconsciously carried him up the stairs and toward Gryffindor tower.

Only when he stood in front of the portrait did he realize where he was and how much he truly didn't want to be around anyone else. He turned on his heel and continued to sprint up the stairs, letting his feet lead him up to the very top of the tower. Though he stopped dead when he saw a tall pale figure sitting at the edge, his feet draped over the side and his back to Harry. He took one step back, intent on running before Draco could see him and then he realized that he didn't _want_ to run. He wanted to get in Draco's face, to prove that he felt as much as Harry did, to hurt and claw and bite and be hurt the way only they could with each other.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked, his voice sharp. Draco flinched, turning to find Harry standing half in the doorway. His eyes immediately locked on green-emeralds, looking as if he was drinking in the sight of him. Then, he turned away, his face profiled against the bright background.

"I wanted to be alone." He muttered, his voice so low it was almost carried off by the wind, and Harry stepped forward. "I was so tired of everyone fussing over me." Draco sighed, his grey eyes flickering with an emotion that passed so quickly Harry didn't have time to identify it.

"Why do you do that?" Harry asked, taking another step forward.

"What?" Draco answered, blinking as if Harry had startled him.

"Why do you hide your emotions from me?"

"I hide my emotions from everyone." Draco said, his lips curving into a kind of bitter half-smile. "It's not personal." He stood, moving past Harry like he would leave.

"Well, it feels pretty personal to me," Harry answered, his voice low and harsh, pulling out of his throat with the sound like a guttural growl. Draco paused, his face completely devoid of emotions. And Harry couldn't _stand_ it anymore. He simply couldn't. He _had_ to know what he meant to Draco. He _had_ to know if he was just a toy or if he was—even could be—something more. And if he couldn't, then he needed to walk away right now because he didn't know if he could have his heart broken again by those silver-grey eyes that made him feel like he was on fire.

Harry reached out, his hands closing around Draco's shoulders and shoving him harshly against the wall. Draco grunted at the impact, his eyes flying wide, mouth parted in shock. Harry took the invitation to plunge his tongue straight into Draco's mouth, curling around Draco's and digging his fingernails into the skin of his shoulders. Draco made a strangled sound and tried to turn his head away, but Harry refused to let him, moving one hand from his shoulder to caress his neck and up to lock his head in place.

All the while, Harry kept his tongue in play, kissing the way Draco himself had taught him, using tongue and teeth and lips to _make_ Draco pay attention to him. He was not going to be ignored this time. This time, it _was_ going to be personal for Draco the way it had always been for Harry.

And Draco did pay attention. With a strangled moan, he gave in to Harry. He took control of the kiss easily, thrusting his tongue into Harry's mouth and immediately beginning to lick along his gums. Harry shivered, relishing at the feel of Draco's tongue in his mouth. He gasped as his back connected with the wall, and Draco's knee was on his groin, and it had been too long since last he'd felt this. Too long since the desire to kiss until he couldn't breathe last overcame him.

Harry was panting so hard he couldn't breathe, hard enough he had to pull his mouth away, his hands tangled in Draco's hair. Unfortunately, this seemed to break Draco out of his trance. He gasped, his pupils were blown wide with lust, eyes wide and full of desperate fear as if he had just done something horrible wrong.

"Harry… I-," he tried to step away, but Harry just clutched at him, refusing to be pushed aside so easily.

"What are you so afraid of, Draco?" Harry asked. "Why can't you just trust me? I'm not going to hurt you. I almost _died_ for you, Draco!"

"Exactly!" Draco answered, and Harry blinked. This time, Draco took advantage of his confusion to shove him off, stepping back and away, and leaving Harry leaning against the wall and staring at Draco in surprise.

"That doesn't make sense," Harry said.

"Of course, it doesn't make sense to you!" Draco answered. "You see danger and you run into. But I'm not like that. I don't _like_ being hurt. I don't _like_ fighting for my life. I don't _like_ watching you almost…." his voice broke, and he turned his face away.

"You think I like almost dying every year?" Harry asked, feeling appalled and hurt. He'd have thought that if anyone could understand, Draco would.

"No, I don't think that." he answered, his voice still sounding strangled.

"Then why…?" He stepped forward, crossing back over to him, his hand outstretched as if to touch him. Draco flinched away, his back colliding almost painfully with the wall; Harry's eyes widened, realizing just how close to breaking Draco truly was.

"I think you can't help yourself from saving people. And I think," Draco swallowed harshly. "I think that I can't watch you die."

"Draco-," Harry tried to touch him again, but Draco was already backing away from him, looking around for an escape as if he was a cornered animal.

"No," he said, his voice just barely trembling. "I'm not you, Harry. I know I'm not. I'm selfish, and I'm a coward and this is one thing I won't do." He back, heading straight for the entrance. Harry watched him walk away with wide eyes, knowing there was only one way he could think to stop him. It was low, but _he_ didn't think he could watch Draco walk away from him. Draco thought he was brave, but he was wrong.

"But I'm in love with you." Harry called, his voice thin and desperate even to his own ears. Draco jerked to a stop, half turning his head to look back at him. And Harry just caught sight of the tear that trickled from the corner of his eye, catching the sunlight before dropping off his chin and landing with a splat onto the stone floor.


	21. Part 2: Chapter 1

_**Hello everyone, Thank you for the reviews. We're back with Part 2. There will be a little more romance between people who are**_ **not _Draco and Harry in this part_**

 _ **I hope you enjoy!**_

 _ **Warning: Some text from original book, Dumbledore's letter from original book.**_

Part 2- Year 6

How the Love was Tested

Chapter 1- To Be Found

Harry hadn't been able to sleep since he'd left Hogwarts for the summer. Actually, he hadn't been able to do a lot of things, but sleeping was the thing he missed the most. Usually, he was so tired that he would just fall asleep were he was, on tables, against windows, once he'd fallen asleep while cleaning the kitchen. Petunia'd had to wake him up and send him up to his room to bed. He figured he must have looked terrible if _she_ was worried enough about him to do that. But even then, he hadn't bothered going to sleep. He was just so tired of the dreams that always seemed to accompany him when he fell asleep.

Then again it wasn't much better when he was awake. He couldn't stop himself from remembering The Department of Mysteries and the horrid prophecy that had taken up residence in his mind. The prophecy that had cost him... No, they were never meant to be in the first place. That was the thought he kept in the front of his mind. That they were never meant to be in the first place. He repeated it to himself when he felt the pain start to claw its way out of his heart and begin to hunger for the rest of his body. They were never meant to be in the first place. There was never anything either of them could have done. And yet, the prophecy still followed him around, promising him that he would never have a normal life. A prospect the rest of the wizarding world had decided to made him The Chosen One. As if being special was ever something he had wanted.

Harry had hoped that since Sirius had been cleared of his charges, he'd be allowed to go live with him, but Dumbledore said he needed to go back to the Dursley's for at least part of the summer. Something about the blood wards working to protect him. Frankly, Harry didn't much care.

He kept up with the wizarding world through the newspaper, though the news was never good. They seemed to have accepted the fact that Voldemort was back, replacing Fudge with the previous head of Aurors. A man named Rufus Scrimgeour. Harry wondered if he would truly be better than Fudge or if everyone just hoped he would.

He fiddled with the paper in front of him, sighing heavily before looking down to read it again.

 _Dear Harry,_

 _If it is convenient for you, I shall call at number four, Privet Drive this coming Friday at eleven PM to escort you to Grimmauld Place, where your Godfather wishes you to spend the remainder of your school holidays.  
If you are agreeable, I shall also be glad of your assistance in a matter to which I hope you attend on the way. I shall explain this more fully when I see you.  
Kindly send your answer by return of this owl. Hoping to see you this Friday,_

 _I am, yours most sincerely,  
_ _Albus Dumbledore_

He'd sent his answer immediately, reading the note probably more times than was strictly warranted. But he couldn't help himself. He wanted _out_ of this house. He wanted to see Sirius. And, maybe, just maybe, he would see... _him_ when he went to Grimmauld Place. He shook his head burying that thought almost as soon as it had risen up.

Suddenly, a street lamp in front of the house went out, making Harry jump. A figure was walking up to his house. He was tall with a long cloak billowing out behind him and silvery hair hanging down his back and reflecting the moon away from him. Harry's eyes widened, he hadn't really expected Dumbledore to show. Turning, Harry scooped up his trunk and banged down the stairs, arriving at the bottom just in time to hear the doorbell.

"Who in the blazes is calling at this time of night?" Vernon snapped, his voice echoing around the corner. Harry froze, realizing how he'd forgotten to warn the Durleys. He shook his head, taking one last deep breath and opened the door just as Vernon came around the corner.

"Ah, Harry," Dumbledore said pleasantly. "And you must be Mr. Dursley. I dare say Harry has told you I would be coming for him?"

Vernon just stood and blinked at him, his eyes wide and full of disbelief as he took in the man before him. Dumbledore was dressed in a long black traveling cloak with his usual half-moon spectacles and a pointed hat. Harry resisted the urge to wince, Dumbledore couldn't have come in _anything_ that would have made Vernon want to explode more.

"Judging by your look of stunned disbelief, Harry did _not_ warn you that I was coming," Dumbledore said, his voice light and cheery as if oblivious to Vernon's turmoil. "However, it's no matter, Harry, are you quite ready?"

"urh… yeah, I think," Harry answered.

"Well, then it's time for us to be off." He stepped off the porch, gesturing for Harry to follow him. "I shall send your thing to Grimmauld Place so we are not encumbered by them." He muttered, pulling out his wand. "However, I would like you to bring your invisibility cloak… just in case." Harry reached out, fumbling around in his case and pulling out his cloak. When he was done, Dumbledore waved his wand and his trunk, cage, and Hedwig vanished, then he stepped forward and began to stroll down Privet Drive as if he did this every evening. Harry scrambled after him, half wondering if Vernon was still standing on the porch gaping but too afraid to turn and look.

"Sir," Harry said. "Where are we going? You said you needed my help with something?"

"Ah," Dumbledore answered, smiling down at Harry but never breaking his stride. "The answer to that is two-fold. First, we need pick someone up."

"Who?" Harry asked.

"Someone who needs to be convinced to do the right thing again," Dumbledore said cryptically. Harry wanted to say something else but he figured he wasn't going to get a straighter answer until Dumbledore felt like telling him. When they came to the end of the Drive, Dumbledore held out his left arm for Harry to grip. "You have not, of course, passed your Apparition Test."

"No?"

"Very well," Dumbledore said. "You will need to take hold of my arm, then." Harry hesitated for a second and then he did. He immediately felt the world twist around him. He felt like he was being pressed in all directions, pulled and pushed and tugged in every which way. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't move, he could only endure the horrible feeling. And then suddenly it was over. His feet slammed into the ground and gasped for air, feeling as if he'd just been forced through a very tight rubber tube.

"Are you alright?" Dumbledore asked, pressing a comforting hand between his shoulders. "The sensation does take some getting used to."

"I'm fine," he answered, standing up straight and looking around. They were in the middle of nowhere, standing in front of a giant mansion with large snakes decorating either side of the ornate gate in front of them. And suddenly, Harry had a very bad feeling about what Dumbledore had brought him to do. "Where are we, Professor?"

"We are at Malfoy Manor, Harry," Dumbledore hummed, stepping forward and pushing open the gate, oblivious to Harry's discomfort.

"But….?" Harry trailed off, hesitating outside the gate. After a moment Dumbledore turned and looked back at him, his eyes still twinkling in the moonlight.

"Come now, Harry. We haven't all night." He said, winking shrewdly. Harry swallowed nervously before walking carefully after the headmaster. They strode up the path, which was trimmed to a T and completely aesthetically pleasing. Harry hated it. It was too perfect.

Dumbledore walked right up to the door and knocked, his smile never faltering, even when he had to knock for the third time in thirty minutes. Harry shifted uncomfortably, feeling as if something was about to jump out and eat him. Or maybe that was just the absurdly loud pounding of his own heart.

"Maybe no one is home, Professor," Harry suggested, half hoping they would just be able to leave.

"Oh, I doubt that very much," Dumbledore answered, knocking again. And finally, the door did open and a house elf stuck its head out, frowning disapprovingly at them.

"You're not welcome here;" Her large bat ears flickered as she stared them down, big brown eyes never blinking. "Master Draco has forbidden you."

"Ah, but I've brought someone with me this time," Dumbledore answered. "Someone Master Draco may want to talk to?"

"Who?" The house elf asked, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"Harry Potter."

"Hmph," she sniffed, sounding so much like her master that Harry wanted to laugh. He wanted to laugh so hard he would forget how much he wanted to cry. "I doubt that."

"Why don't you ask him?" Dumbledore insisted. "Wouldn't want to assume wrong, now would you?" The house elf's eyes narrowed again, and she slammed the door, leaving Harry unsure if that was a yes or a no.

"Professor?" Harry asked quietly and yet still feeling as if his voice was much too loud in the night. "Why are we here?"

"To get Draco, of course," Dumbledore answered, his eyes never leaving the door in front of them.

"But-," Harry started, but was immediately interrupted by the opening of Malfoy Manor's front door.

"Master will see you after all," the elf said, her lip curling disdainfully. The elf pushed the door open a little wider and gestured them impatiently inside. As soon as Harry crossed the threshold, she shut the door with a sharp snap and began walking briskly down the hall. "Master Draco's waiting for you in the sitting room." She told them, her big brown eyes never leaving Dumbledore or Harry.

They followed her for several minutes, tracking across white carpet floors and ornate paintings that sneered at Harry as he passed. He kept his hands firmly tucked against his sides, almost feeling like he was in an alternate universe. Everything was so white, so clean and big. Did the Malfoy's really need a chandelier that big in their entryway? He was afraid to step on the carpet, much less touch anything. He couldn't imagine living here; no wonder Draco was so closed off and meticulous.

Finally, the elf stopped and pushed open a door for Harry and Dumbledore, glaring after them all the while. Dumbledore walking in without hesitating, but Harry stopped for a second before he followed. He felt like he was walking into some kind of death trap. He'd been avoiding _thinking_ about Draco all summer and now Dumbledore wanted him to just walk into his house and talk to him as if everything was normal. As if Draco hadn't... No. They were never meant to be in the first place. It was no one fault. It would never have worked anyway. Harry took a deep breath and stepped into the room.

The room was about what he expected, all whites, silvers, and greens with large furniture and a large blazing fireplace. Draco was in the absolute center of the room, sitting crossed legged on a large Slytherin green couch.

"Welcome," Draco murmured, his voice low and full of hostility. His silver-grey eyes flicked between the two of them, turning on Dumbledore for half a second before landing and staying on Harry. He felt his face color. Why was he looking at him? Weren't there plenty of other things to be looking at? He frowned and dropped his gaze to the floor. "Sit. Please." Draco was leaning back, his right arm draped across the back of the couch and his face a calm emotionless mask. And yet, Harry could tell by the way his left hand's pointer finger tapped a steady rhythm on his leg, that he was anything but relaxed.

"Thank you," Dumbledore smiled easily, immediately sitting in the chair across from Draco. Which left Harry nowhere else to sit but… He hesitated, cleared his throat, and then looked up to find Draco's silver-gray eyes still focused intently on him. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to meet Draco's gaze. He was being an idiot, this was the first time they'd seen each other since... Draco was probably just concerned about him. He knew he didn't exactly look _good._ There was no reason he couldn't act natural around Draco. No reason at all. He smiled at Draco and moved to sit next to him. Draco's face immediately darkened, and he turned his face away. The same way he had the night he'd...

Harry flinched. As if it wasn't enough to have to be here, to look into his silver-gray eyes and wonder if he still cared the way Harry did. Now he was remembering the one thing he promised himself he'd forget. But looking at Draco's face, the eyes cold and turned away from him, it was impossible to ignore how his usually smooth voice had sounded so broken. His grey eyes glassy as if he was about to cry—as if Draco, the Slytherin Ice Prince with no emotions- was about to cry. And Harry realized how very close he was to breaking. How close Harry was to breaking him.

"Then why….?" Harry had asked even though he already knew the answer. He'd always known the answer. They'd both always known that it would never have worked between them. He just hadn't wanted to accept it.

"I think you can't help yourself from saving people. And I think," Draco had swallowed, an unusually harsh sound from someone so graceful. Draco had accepted they wouldn't last; he had always known it. "I think that I can't watch you die."

"Why are you here?" Draco asked, breaking Harry out of his thoughts. He was still turned decidedly away from Harry, facing Dumbledore with cold silver-gray eyes. "I told you not to come back."

"I thought Harry might appreciate the opportunity to see you," Dumbledore answered. "I know it's been a while." Draco was silent for a heartbeat before he seemed to collect himself.

"I want nothing to do with The Order," He insisted. "I've told you I'm done."

"What?" Harry interrupted. Draco tensed even further, still refusing to look at him. "What do you mean you're done?"

"It's not a riddle, Potter," Draco answered, his voice frosting even further. "I mean exactly what I say. I'm done with The Dark Lord, The Order, and the war. I lost one parent to it all and I've decided it's no longer my problem."

"But-," Harry protested

"Draco," Dumbledore interrupted suddenly. "I hate to inconvenience you, but may I use your bathroom?"

"I…" Draco blinked once and then nodded, snapping his fingers loudly. "Of course." The elf that escorted them in suddenly appeared at Draco's shoulder.

"Yes, Master Draco?"

"Please take Headmaster Dumbledore to the bathroom," Draco told her. "And make sure he doesn't wander."

"Wizzy will make sure!" She exclaimed, glaring at Dumbledore, who stood and followed her out the door as if he hadn't a care in the world.

The door snapped shut behind Dumbledore, leaving the door in an absurdly awkward silence. Draco still refused to look at Harry, his silver-gray eyes firmly locked on the large fireplace to his left. While Harry tried not to stare and failed miserably. Draco looked skinnier than Harry remembered. Harry's eyes skimmed across Draco's body, taking in the curves and edges and ending at his face. His cheeks were gaunt and there were bags under his eyes. Harry wondered when the last time he'd slept was; probably around the same time as him.

Draco's hair was flicked behind his ears, he hadn't bothered to put gel in it, letting it hang loose. It was longer than Harry had thought, almost reaching his shoulders. His eyes flicked over Draco's nose, taking in the pointed beautiful features before landing on his eyes. His silver-grey eyes were still just as bright, and they were pointing straight at Harry.

His face flushed bright red when he realized how long he must have been staring. He dropped his eyes, swallowing nervously.

"You look terrible, Harry," Draco told him; his voice quiet with all the ice having leaked out. Harry looked back up, locking eyes with those grey eyes that could only hurt him now.

"You do, too," Harry answered.

"Yeah," Draco said, his lips curling in a hesitant smile. "I'm aware."

"Why did you leave The Order, Draco?" Harry asked, half afraid Draco would shut him down. Sure enough, Draco's face immediately darkened, and he turned his face away, the hair falling out from behind his ear to cover his face.

"I have my reasons," he said. Harry wanted to bad to reach out and touch him, to stroke his cheek and push the hair out of his face but the memory of the last time he'd tried to touch Draco still burned in his mind. His mutter call of Draco that had only been interrupted when Harry had tried to touch him. Him realizing that Draco was running away from him. Always away as if Harry was the one perpetually hurting him. And maybe he was. After all, Harry had refused to believe they wouldn't last, even then.

"No," Draco had insisted, still retreating. "I'm not you, Harry. I know I'm not. I'm selfish and I'm a coward and this is one thing I won't do." His voice grew stronger with every word and Harry knew when he walked out that door, he would never be coming back.

"But I'm in love with you." Harry said because he hadn't cared that Draco was close to breaking. He hadn't cared. He just wanted him to stay even if it meant they'd both be broken in the end.

"Harry…" Draco had answered, his voice barely loud enough to hear. He was crying; the first time Harry had ever seen him cry. In his heart, he knew it would be the last.

"And is hiding away really the best thing to do?" Harry asked, pulling himself back to the present.

"I've already told you, Harry," he turned his grey eyes on Harry. He looked tired, worn out. "I'm not you. I'm not brave and I'm not altruistic."

"And does that make you happy?" Harry asked.

"What does my happiness matter?" Draco scowled. "When has anyone ever cared about whether I was happy or not?"

"I care," Harry answered, his voice so low he thought maybe Draco couldn't hear him. He half hoped Draco _wouldn't_ hear him.

"Right," Draco snorted. "Lot of good that did us." Harry looked away, knowing it was true. He knew Draco would still tell him that sometimes, love just isn't enough. He would still break Harry's heart into a million pieces and then walk away.

"And what does giving up do?" Harry whispered, pulling himself out of his memories with an effort. He couldn't afford to drown, not now. Not ever. They were never meant to be in the first place. They'd both known it since the beginning. Harry just hadn't wanted to accept it.

"I…" Draco trailed off, his eyes caught by Harry's. "I'm scared, Harry."

"And you think I'm not?" Harry answered. He scooted a little closer to Draco. Close enough to feel him tense when he reached out and placed a hand on top of Draco's still tapping left finger, stopping the motion. "I need you, Draco, and I have a feeling you need me too."

"Harry, I…" Draco closed his eyes, his hand clenching down around Harry's. "I- I just can't be with you. I can't."

"I'm not asking you too," Harry answered, knowing he wouldn't be able to survive asking. Just like Draco wouldn't survive telling him no again."I'm just asking you not to leave me alone again." Harry squeezed Draco's hand. Now that he had hold of Draco, though, he couldn't fathom letting go.


	22. Part 2: Chapter 2

_**Thank you for the reviews**_

 _ **Warning: some text from original book**_

Chapter 2- To be Manipulated

Draco wasn't sure why he'd agreed to come. Well, except that when Harry had looked at him with those with green eyes, he hadn't been able to say no. Not without regretting it for the rest of his life. And really, there was already enough that he would regret for the rest of his life. Of course, Harry would be the one regretting trusting him by the end.

Dumbledore side-along Apparated them away from Malfoy Manor, leaving Draco's head spinning in a way he would be happy to never repeat. _Maybe that was why father always insisted on floo powered or portkeys,_ Draco thought, struggling to remain on his feet.

"Alright there, you two?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes still twinkling annoyingly. Seriously, was the man ever _not_ happy.

"Fine," he huffed back.

"Yes, Professor," Harry answered and Draco snorted. Harry threw him a dirty look when Dumbledore wasn't looking.

"Ah, very good, very good," Dumbledore murmured, ever oblivious. He started down the street, walking so fast Draco and Harry had to scramble to keep up with him. He seemed to be looking for something, though with Dumbledore Draco would never be able to guess what. "So, tell me, Harry," he said casually, his voice echoing down the street. Draco winced, feeling like hexing the old fool, was he trying to attract attention to them? "Your…. scar has it been hurting at all?" Draco tensed. It was a question he wanted to know- he shook his head. No, no, he refused to become involved by all this again. He'd promised himself that he wouldn't let Potter break his heart and he'd meant it.

"No," Harry answered, drawing Draco's eye to him. "I think I scared him when I drove him out of my mind."

"Exactly what I believe," Dumbledore smiled softly. "Very good, Harry."

"I, uh…" Harry flushed, looking away and Draco was struck by how much he hated when Harry did that. He hated how Harry always turned away from praise as if he'd never done anything to deserve it in the first place. "Yes, Professor."

"Where are we going?" Draco asked, shaking his head to refocus.

"Well, Draco," Dumbledore answered with all his usual twinkle and mystery, "we're going to persuade an old colleague of mine to come out of retirement and return to Hogwarts."

"Why?" Draco asked, eyes narrowing.

"Because, once again, we are one staff member short." Dumbledore answered, which only made Draco narrow his eyes further. He was hiding something. Though he wasn't sure why he was surprised, Dumbledore was always hiding something. Draco flashed his eyes toward Harry, who looked just as confused and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from hexing Dumbledore. He could understand keeping information from him. Hell, he could even agree with it, it wasn't as if he'd been the best Order member this summer, but he had thought they had all agreed that Harry had earned the right to know the truth of things.

"But how can we help with that, Professor?" Harry asked quickly, his emerald eyes flicking to Draco as if he could sense hie agitation before moving away again.

"Oh, I think I'll find a use for you," Dumbledore said, turning a corner and continuing down the street at a leisurely pace. Harry shivered as a cold wind blew down their backs. It was impossible to get warm, especially since Voldemort had- Draco turned his mind sharply away from that, refusing to think about it.

"Sir," Harry said, still shivering. "I saw in _Daily Profit_ that Fudge had been sacked."

"Correct, he has been replaced, as I'm sure you saw by Rufus Scrimgeour, who used to be the Head Auror."

"My father hated him," Draco muttered, watching as Harry wrapped his arms around himself to stop the shivering. "He always complained about how he ran the Aurors. I think he just didn't like how Scrimgaour actually held him accountable." He sighed as Harry shivered again. "Really, Potter, can't you wear decent clothes?" He unclasped his cloak from around his shoulders and handed it over.

"I…" Harry hesitated before wrapping his hand around Draco's cloak and swinging it around his shoulders. "I can't help it. It's impossible to get warm recently."

"There always seems to be a chill in the air nowadays," Dumbledore answered immediately, never losing his serene expression. "I'm not surprised you feel it, Harry. "

"Oh." Harry answered.

"Be less articulate," Draco muttered under his breath. Harry's gaze flicked to his face, green eyes flashing in the moonlight. Draco looked away quickly, ignoring the heat that pooled in his stomach.

"Oh, here it is," Dumbledore said, stopping in front of a quaint little stone house with a well-tended garden out front. "Oh, dear. Oh, dear, dear, dear." Dumbledore muttered, stepping around the gate and up into the garden. Draco felt his blood freeze when he noticed the door hanging off its hinges. "Wands out," Dumbledore called, stepping neatly into the house. Harry scrambled to pull his wand out, but before he could move any closer to the house, Draco stepping in front of him.

"What are you doing?" Harry blinked, looking up into silver-gray eyes.

"This is stupid," Draco answered. "Why is he dragging you there? Anything could be waiting for us."

"Draco, I can take care of myself," Harry answered, the tips of his ears turning red. Though whether that was from anger or embarrassment he couldn't tell.

"I never said you couldn't," Draco said.

"Then, why…" Harry blinked up at him.

"You have no idea what's in there," Draco snapped, "you just run in without a second thought because Dumbledore tells you to."

"I _am_ thinking!" Harry snapped back. "And I'm not going to stand out here just because _you_ tell me to."

"I'm not-," Draco started, just to be interrupted by a loud voice from inside the house.

"OUCH!" A voice sounded. A voice that definitely wasn't Dumbledore.

"What?" Harry stepped forward, but Draco planted himself even firmer between him and the door. " _Move_ , Draco. Dumbledore could need help!"

"He's one of the most powerful Wizards of the century," Draco answered. "I think he'll be fine."

"Oh, just _move!"_ Harry yelled, shoving past him to get into the house. Draco tried to catch him, but he was already in the house, running down the hall. Draco cursed and chased after him. He flinched when he heard the door close behind him, though when he looked, it was perfect. Where before it had been hanging off its hinges, now it was hanging perfectly as if nothing had ever happened to it. Draco blinked at it once before swallowing and following Harry where he'd disappeared to down the hall, refusing to let him get to far ahead.

They found Dumbledore inside a small living room that was every bit as quaint as the outside with glittering picture frames and cute furniture. Standing beside Dumbledore was a squat man with a large mustache and a round belly. He focused his eyes on them when he entered the room,

"Ah, Harry, Draco," Dumbledore greeted them pleasantly. "There you are. May I introduce an old friend and colleague of mine, Horace Slughorn." The man narrowed his eyes at them before his eyes focused on Harry's forehead and widened to an astonishing degree. "Horace, this is Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy."

"Hmm," Slughorn sniffed, eyeing Harry as if he was some fine wine on a buffet table Slughorn was desperately trying to resist.

"Let's just have a drink, Horace," Dumbledore asked, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "For old time's sake?"

"Oh, alright then, one drink," he answered, putting on a show of being very put out. He walked around them and headed toward a set of decanters and glasses on one side of the room. Dumbledore waved Harry to sit in the middle of the room, his seat most illuminated by the firelight and Draco felt like screaming. The old git was using Harry, using him like he always did.

Draco opened his mouth, to say what, he didn't know. Then Harry caught his eyes, shaking his head slightly in the firelight. He set his jaw and turned his face away, anger and disappointment flashing through him. He wasn't supposed to care. He was supposed to be able to stand here and not care about those emerald eyes that burned through him, about that raven hair that never laid flat. He was supposed to move on with his life.

"You needn't hide about like this," Dumbledore said to Slughorn. "If you were to return to Hogwarts-,"

"Is that why we're here?" Draco interrupted.

"Yes," he answered, throwing Draco a cautious look before turning his attention back to Slughorn, but it was already too late. He already had the man's attention.

"You're Draco Malfoy?" Slughorn asked, his voice pitching low. "Lucius Malfoy's boy." Draco just looked at him, clapping his jaw down to stop the curses he wanted to spew at the sound of his father's name. He saw Harry tense, his hand half rising from his lap before dropping back down.

Maybe Draco could have forgiven his father for all he'd done in the past. Maybe he'd have been able to move past being tortured and dragged across The Department of Mysteries and used as bait, but after what he'd done over the summer…

Draco could never forgive Lucius for what he had caused.

"Yes," Slughorn muttered. "You look just like him. You're in Slytherin, I suspect." He turned to Harry, dismissing Draco with nothing more than a turn of his head. "I used to be head of Slytherin house, you know." Harry raised an eyebrow, his eyes flicking to Draco and then back to Slughorn again.

"If you don't mind, Horace," Dumbledore said, standing suddenly. "I was wondering whether I might use your bathroom?" Dumbledore asked. Harry blinked, exchanging a look with Draco.

"Oh, second on the left down the hall."

"Didn't he just use the bathroom?" Draco muttered once he was out of the room and Harry shrugged, frowning thoughtfully at the door.

"What was that, my boys?" Slughorn said, turning back to them.

"Nothing, sir," Harry answered. Slughorn just looked back, focusing first on his scar and then roaming over the rest of his face.

"You look very like your father," he said after a moment.

"Yeah, I've been told." Harry answered, and Draco knew this was beginning to wear on him. The staring and the talking and the attention. Harry was only doing it for Dumbledore, even though he would never get anything back for it.

"You knew James Potter well?" Draco asked.

"I'm sorry?" Slughorn blinked, turning to him as if he'd forgotten he was there.

"You said you were head of Slytherin house, Potter was Gryffindor. I can't imagine you knew him well." Draco answered, half narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

"Well, no," Slughorn shifted uncomfortable, before turning back to Harry. Draco narrowed his eyes further. "It was really Lily that I knew. She was one of the brightest students I ever taught."

"You make it a habit to get know all your talented students," Draco asked and Harry shot him a warning look. But he wasn't done. Not when the old git was still looking at Harry as if he was some kind of prize to be collected.

"Oh, I try," Slughorn said, smiling in a rather self-satisfied way. He stood, pointing out several photographs lined up along his cabinet. "All ex-students. All signed. You'll notice Barnabas Cuffe, editor of the _Daily Profit,_ he's always interested to hear my take on the day's news. And Ambrosius Flume, of Honeydukes…" He continued on, prattling about who was in what portrait and who they were. What they had accomplished and how they still thought of him. Draco tried to resist the urge to tell him to shut up, but it was hard, especially when he just wouldn't. Eventually, he came to a stop, smiling broadly over at his cabinet of photos.

"And all these people know where to find you, to send you stuff?" Harry asked. He sounded sincere enough, confused and innocent, but the comment burst Slughorn's bubble enough that Draco had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.

"Of course not," he answered, the smile dropping off his face. "Still…. the prudent wizard keeps his head down in such times."

"And how are you safer here than at Hogwarts?" Draco asked, raising an eyebrow at the increasingly idiotic man in front of him.

"I…" Slughorn blinked at him, his mouth gaping like a fish.

"He's right," Harry said. "Isn't Hogwarts supposed to be the safest place around, what with Dumbledore being the only person Voldemort ever feared." Slughorn jumped a little, staring at Harry.

"Well, yes…" he muttered seemingly to himself. "Yes, it is true that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has never sought a fight with Dumbledore."

"What does it hurt you?" Draco asked, rolling his eyes. "You can only be safer if you're closer to Dumbledore."

"I… yes," Slughorn nodded to himself again, not bothering to acknowledge Draco at all. "Yes, I suppose I _would_ be safer at that…" Suddenly the door opened, causing Slughorn to jump so hard, he almost tumbled to the ground. Draco wanted to throw something at him. _This_ had been the head of Slytherin? What had been wrong with the world?

"Well, Harry, Draco," Dumbledore hummed, eyes sparkling. "We've trespassed on Horace's hospitality quite long enough; I think it's time for us to leave."

Harry immediately jumped to his feet, grabbing Draco's cloak as if he couldn't wait to be out of that house. Draco was slower, looking back at the disappointed face of Slughorn and knowing he wasn't about t be rid of the man so easily.

"You're leaving?" Slughorn blinked.

"Yes, indeed. I think I know a lost cause when I see one," Dumbledore answered, beginning to throw on his traveling cloak and head for the door. Draco lingered, watching Slughorn's face curiously. It was only a matter of minutes—seconds before Slughorn gave in.

"All right, all right, I'll do it!" Slughorn's voice called. Dumbledore and Harry turned from their place at the front door.

"Wonderful," Dumbledore answered, beaming as if he hadn't already known that Slughorn would say yes when he'd brought Harry around. Draco followed them down the steps, still lagging behind. He would have found it impressive—he was a Slytherin after all—if he couldn't still remember how Dumbledore had done the exact same thing to him.

"Did you like him, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, closing the gate to the front yard behind them. Draco remembered how he'd thrown Dumbledore out of his house a thousand times and then the name Harry Potter had run through his brain and he just hadn't been able to turn them away. He remembered how Dumbledore had asked to go to the bathroom, so Harry could convince him to fight again; the same trick he'd pulled on Slughorn.

"I didn't like him," Draco said. "He reminded me of my father, picking people that he can help but only at a price. He'll only _help_ you so long as you can give him something in return."

"Just so," Dumbledore answered, his eyes twinkling approvingly over at him. But Draco didn't want his approval. Not when the truth was that he had also reminded him of Dumbledore. The difference was that his father and Slughorn manipulated to help themselves while Dumbledore manipulated to help the world. Yet, somehow it didn't make it feel any better when he was the one being manipulated. Harry's emerald eyes flashed back to lock on his and Draco knew he understood what he was thinking, whether he agreed with him or not was another story. "I tell you this to put you on your guard, Harry. He will undoubtably try to collect you. You will be the jewel of his collection."

Harry shivered, and Draco couldn't help but mirror the motion. As much as he hated it, as much as he wished it wasn't true, he detested the idea of Harry anywhere near Slughorn. He couldn't stand the idea of Harry in any kind of danger. He knew Harry was his weakness. The chink in his armor.

But this wasn't supposed to happen. He wasn't supposed to care. He was supposed to be able to stand there and not care about those emerald eyes that burned through him, about that raven hair that never laid flat. He was supposed to move on with his life. He had worked all summer to move on with his life. He had told Harry no, so that he could move on with his life. He knew, he knew if he wanted to survive this he couldn't afford to _have_ a weakness, not while Voldemort was- And especially not Harry Potter. Not when he knew that Harry Potter probably wasn't going to survive this- or at least, if today was anything to go by, he wasn't going to _try_ to survive.

And yet, when Harry looked back and reached for his hand, beginning to shiver against the wind and clutching Draco's cloak like it was a lifeline—he knew he didn't stand a chance. There was no not caring option anymore.


	23. Part 2: Chapter 3

_**Thank you for all the wonderful reviews! I hope you enjoy.**_

 _ **Warning: mild smut**_

Chapter 3- To Be Weak

Dumbledore dropped them off at Grimmauld Place, tapping on the door and smiling. He'd already told Harry he'd be having private lessons with him this year. Which didn't exactly make him feel any less apprehensive. Sirius opened the door almost immediately after he knocked, wrapping Harry in a hug and then casting Draco a surprised look that quickly shifted to something closer to distrust.

"I didn't know Malfoy would be here," he said, giving Dumbledore a hard look.

"Ah, yes," Dumbledore smiled, looking completely unconcerned by Sirius' hostility. "Draco will be staying with you and Harry for the rest of the summer, I'm sure you don't mind. I just think it's terrible unhealthy for boy to be cooped up in a big house all alone." Draco scowled at the headmaster, his lips tightening, but he didn't say anything.

"If you say so," Sirius answered, his lips tightening with annoyance. Harry just looked at Draco intensely. He knew Lucius Malfoy had been sent to Azkaban for his part in what in The Department of Mysteries, but wasn't Draco's mother still home? What did Dumbledore mean Draco had been living in the house all alone?

"Well, Sirius," Dumbledore said, continuing to smile. "I'll be off. I do hope you have a good rest of your summer." Sirius nodded distractedly as Dumbledore turned and strode down the street, looking as if he didn't have a care in the world.

"Best get inside," he murmured, waving Harry and Draco past the threshold. He threw Draco another wary look, though this time it was less accusatory a more cautious as if he had yet to decide Draco's true intentions. "Bedroom are on the second floor; there are several you can choose from. I'm in the middle of breakfast, so you'll have to find them yourself."

"Thank you, Sirius," Harry smiled at him, ignoring Draco's snort. Sirius flicked his eyes to Draco with renewed annoyance before beaming at Harry. He looked uncertain for a moment, and then he smiled one last time and stepped into the kitchen. Harry let out a breath, just realizing how much tension he had been holding. It shouldn't have been this difficult to come and live with his godfather for the first time, but it was.

"Has he never taken care of you before?" Draco asked. He was still watching the door Sirius had disappeared through, one eyebrow raised.

"Let's just go find our bedrooms." Harry answered, which only made Draco's eyebrow raise higher. Fortunately, he seemed to let it go and nodded, following Harry up the stairs and toward where he remembered the bedrooms to be.

"Your godfather really let this place go," Draco muttered, examining the walls with his nose wrinkled.

"He hates this place," Harry answered, ignoring the little voice in the back of his head that sang about how cute Draco looked when he did that.

"Then why is he still staying here?" Draco asked, rolling his eyes until he was looking back at Harry. He promptly looked away.

"I don't know, maybe Dumbledore needs him to."

"Right," Draco grumbled, sounding more put out than was strictly necessary. "Always what Dumbledore needs." Harry bit his lip; he wouldn't lash out. He already knew Draco had a problem with Dumbledore; it had been obvious since last year. It shouldn't be annoying him _now_ , but the way Draco said Dumbledore's name with spite in his voice. The way Draco looked at him; his eyes half glowing like he wanted to rip the headmaster's head off. The way he'd banned him from his house; Harry didn't understand. He didn't understand how Draco could go from telling Harry to stop ripping Dumbledore's head off at the end of last year to hating him with all his guts now. And it pissed Harry off that he didn't know. It pissed him off to no end that there was something about Draco that he didn't understand.

And it pissed him off even more that he didn't have a right to understand.

"Bedroom," Harry said, stopping in front of a door and pointing down the hall. There were several doors in front of them, some of them were a basic brown, others were painted different colors and Harry knew from experience that several of them were locked and not about to be opened. "I'm sure Sirius cleaned out the ones he wanted us to use."

"Yes, I remember," Draco muttered, his eyes focusing on the hall. Harry started, he'd forgotten that Draco had stayed at Grimmauld Place with him last Christmas. It was strange, he didn't know how he could forget a time that he'd been so close to breaking. His eyes flicked back to Draco to find him watching Harry, his silver-gray eyes intense. "I apologize, I didn't mean to remind you of that," he murmured softly, looking up at Harry though his eyelashes. Harry starred, Draco was _apologizing_ to him? Granted, it wasn't the standard 'I'm sorry, please forgive me. I've wronged you.' apology, but Draco never apologized to anyone. He opened his mouth, still staring and then snapped it closed again as indignation filled him.

Draco was _apologizing_ to him as if he were some little kid that needed to be handled and protected.

"I'm not made of glass, Draco," he snapped.

"I don't think you are," Draco answered, flinching as if Harry had physically struck him. Good, Harry though savagely, let him for once be the one that gets hurt. Part of him-some part buried deep down-knew he was being irrational. That he was being unfair and childish, but he shoved that part down savagely as he continued to yell.

"Really," he snarled. "First back at the house, now this. You're acting as if you think I'm some weak thing that needs to be protected at any cost." Draco just looked at him, his jaw clenched so tight, Harry could hear his teeth begin to grind together. Then he turned on his heel and began to march across the hall, heading for the bedroom door he'd stayed in when he was there during Christmas.

"Hey!" Harry yelled. "Don't walk away from me!" Draco ignored him. Harry chased after him, feeling nowhere near as graceful as Draco's long-legged strides were. He caught Draco's elbow and spun him around, getting in Draco's face to shout. "You always run away! You always shut yourself down and me out when you're the least bit upset or scared. Well, just say what you have to say, huh? I'm right here? You think I'm made of glass; I'm not! Just _do_ something. Feel _something,_ Draco!" Draco starred back at him, his silver-gray eyes steadily filling with more and more anger as Harry talked. When he finished, Draco didn't even hesitate to start.

"You think I don't feel?" Draco asked, his voice low and deep, echoing around in Harry's head far more effectively than Harry's shouting could ever have been. "You think I think you're made of glass; some breakable thing I can't say what I want to say to?" Harry was too disturbed by Draco's tone to nod, but he seemed to feel Harry's intention. "Well, you're wrong. You want to know why I run away when I'm scared or upset? It's not because I'm scared that what I have to say will break _you_ , it's that I'm scared it will break _me_." Draco narrowed his eyes, looking at Harry so intensely he shivered. "I don't say what I want because you don't _listen._ You ignore all reason and you run into danger like it's _nothing._ And I've already told you, Harry, I'm not brave like you are. I'm _very_ breakable and the _thought_ of reaching out for you only to have you walk away _kills_ me; much less for it to actually happen."

"I don't-," Harry started, feeling as if he'd missed something very important. They had been arguing, how had this turned into a declaration of Draco's feelings for him?

"I don't think you're weak. I just _know_ I am, so if I have to hold my tongue and pretend not to have any emotions to survive around you, I will." Draco muttered, yanking his arm out of Harry's grasp. Harry's hand burned where his arm had been and he closed it into a fist, trying to get rid of the horrible feeling seeping into his fingers. "Are you happy now?"

Harry just blinked at him, unsure what to say. Draco snorted as if he were trying to be amused and failing miserably. Then he turned away and began heading for his room again. Harry saw him turn his back and desperation surged through him. He couldn't let Draco walk away from him; he _couldn't_. He couldn't have them go back to acting as if they didn't care, ignoring each other and silently dying every time their eyes met.

"It's not my fault," Harry called, his voice cracking. He knew how he sounded, but in that moment he didn't care. Draco hesitated, his shoulders tensing. "It's a prophecy, Draco, what am I supposed to do? Pretend it doesn't exist?!"

"It's not about the prophecy!" Draco snapped, whirling around. His eyes were blazing, that beautiful silver color that Harry had missed _so_ much. "It's about the fact that _you_ don't seem to care whether you live or die!"

"I care," Harry answered, feeling as if it was the right answer.

"Really?" Draco laughed bitterly, crossing the hallway to stand back in front of him. And Harry could suddenly _feel_ Draco, he could feel his body heat, his warmth, his anger. Harry felt something in his chest stir and all he wanted to do was reach out and touch. He didn't care if they were arguing he just wanted to hold on and never let go to the one thing he'd been denied and yet knew he couldn't live without. "Then why did you rush to The Department of Mysteries with no backup?"

"I-," Harry blinked, trying to focus past the warmth seeping through him.

"Why did you try and run into a house after Dumbledore when you _knew_ there was probably something dangerous inside?" Draco snapped, stepping even closer to him.

"Dumbledore-," Harry shook his head and then suddenly Draco was there, his hands on Harry's shoulders. He shoved and Harry's back hit the wall with a startled woof. He didn't struggle; he didn't have it in him to struggle past the heat trickling through the hands on his shoulder and into his chest, down through his stomach. Draco's hands tightened, his pupils dilated as he continued on mercilessly, voice low and full of anger.

"If Weasley or Granger firecalled you right now and asked for you would you wait to get help or would run out into danger before anyone could stop you?" Draco continued.

"I don't know," Harry whimpered, hands closing into fists at his sides as he desperately tried to stop himself from reaching out for Draco.

"Yes, you do," Draco growled, his breath drifting across Harry's face and making him shiver before he could help himself. "You and I both know exactly what you would, Harry. And that's why it's not about the Prophecy. It's about you running into danger without a care about who you hurt if you were to die." Harry was wrenched out of his trance by Draco's words. They echoed around in his head, splashing guilt everywhere they landed.

"And what about you?" Harry snapped back, feeling trapped and angry. Though completely unsure who he was angry at. "Have you ever thought for a second how much you hurt me by walking away?" Draco flinched, wrenching away from Harry as if he'd been burned.

In his head, Harry knew he should let him. He should just let Draco walk away from him, it would only hurt the both of them more if he continued to cling to something that they both knew would never work. But he just _couldn't_. His body finally did what it had wanted to do from the moment Draco had stepped close to him; it touched. His hand lunged out, wrapping around Draco's wrist so tightly he knew there would be bruises later.

"You can't just run away from this, Draco," He murmured, eyes burning into silver-grey. He saw the spark light and then Draco was against him, holding him to the wall by his wrists and his hips.

Harry moaned, wasting half a second wondering how they always managed to get to this point when they argued. It couldn't be healthy. And then Draco rocked his hips, latching his lips onto Harry's and biting down and he lost all coherent thought. He felt a tongue slide into his mouth, stroking along his own before moving to lick the roof of his mouth and he was sure he tasted blood from when Draco had bit him. He moaned; his hips thrusting against Draco of their own accord.

Draco answered back without hesitation, stabbing Harry back with his own hips and leaving Harry so hard it was painful. He felt Draco take both his wrists in one hand, pressing down so hard, he knew he'd have bruises around his wrists to match the one he'd put on Draco's. Draco lowered his left hand, cupping Harry's chin for half a second before continuing down to his waistband.

Harry wiggled underneath Draco's onslaught, he was desperate and hot and horribly painfully ready for Draco to touch him. Draco finally pulled the button of Harry's jeans loose, undoing the zipper and letting them drop down around Harry's ankle. Draco then fondled him through his pants, stroking and squeezing until Harry couldn't take it anymore. He wrenched his mouth away, arching into Draco's touch.

"Please," he groaned. "Please… Draco… I need…"

"Hush," Draco growled, his lips still against Harry's mouth. His hand never stopped its teasing motion, bringing Harry right to the edge and then backing off again. Harry curled his fingers, but Draco's right hand held them firmly against the wall, making sure they didn't move from their spot.

Finally, _finally,_ Draco's hand wrapped around the waistband of Harry's pants and pulled, releasing his erection. He hissed as it was exposed to the cold air and then cried out when Draco wrapped his hand around it and yanked. He sobbed, so deep in pleasure he was sure he would come from a single vicious stroke. But then Draco stopped, his hand clamping down on the base of Harry's cock and he was sure he would die.

"Do you have any idea how completely ravishable you look like this?" Draco murmured, his head dipping away from Harry's lips. He traced his tongue down Harry's jawline and circled his pulse point before latching onto it. Harry moaned, leaning his head back and barring his neck.

"Dr-draco," Harry whimpered. His common sense was _trying_ to claw its way up, to tell him that this was all a bad idea and it was time to wake up and smell the roses, but he refused—no he _couldn't_ listen to it. All he wanted was Draco, here and now. And if that meant there was something wrong with him then so be it.

"Yes, love?" Draco answered, removing his mouth from Harry's neck. Though his tongue continued to trace sinful patterns along where he'd surely just sucked a bruise into Harry's skin. And Harry very nearly fainted. He had never thought he would get to have Draco's mouth on his, his hands around him, to have Draco press him up against a wall and demand all Harry was ready to give. He had thought he would never get any of that again, much less have Draco call him love with that look in his eyes as if Harry was the most beautiful thing he'd every seen.

"I want you," Harry whispered. "Please… I want you inside me."

Draco wrenched back, starring at Harry with wide silver-gray eyes. Harry felt the unexpected urge to giggle; he'd never thought he'd ever get to see Draco shocked senseless while his pupils were blown wide with lust and he was looking down at Harry as if there was nothing better, he could possibly he looking at.


	24. Part 2: Chapter 4

_**Hello! It's been a long time everyone. I'm so sorry for the unexpected hiatus but I got so caught up in my other story that it just sort of happened. Anyway, we're up and running again!**_

 _ **There will be weekly updates, every Saturday. I hope you enjoy.**_

 _ **A big thanks to everyone who has reviewed, and stayed with this story.**_

 **Warning: references to sex, mild smut, some text from original book**

Chapter 4- To be a Liar

And Draco was staring at Harry. He was aware of how he looked, probably like a complete idiot. And Malfoys never looked like idiots.

But he couldn't stop himself from staring at Harry with his mouth slightly open and then Harry was laughing, bending over, pressing his face into Draco's neck and kissing and sucking and he groaned, trying desperately to hold onto his common sense when Harry was assaulting him like this.

It was a miracle he could even stop himself from taking him, claiming him. As if Draco had that right. As if they were in any place to be doing that. Blowjobs and Handjobs were one thing, but sex—penetrative sex was something completely different. If Harry had any idea what Draco was supposed to be doing, what he'd been told to do by... Harry would never have asked Draco because there was no way he would trust him with something as big as taking his virginity.

"Harry, we can't…" He tried, but then Harry's mouth was on his, biting and licking, and Draco lost his train of thought. Well, he lost a lot more than his train of thought.

"Why not, Draco?" Harry asked. "Draco, I want you." He whispered, his breath blowing across Draco's face. "I love you."

And Draco's willpower crumbled with a loud groan, crushing his mouth into Harry's so hard their teeth clashed together. He still had Harry's hands pinned above his head in that way he absolutely loved, The Chosen One completely and willingly in his power. He already had Harry bare from the waist down and it was an easy thing to mutter the wandless lubricant spell that he'd mastered years ago.

He hesitated for half a second before dropping his now well lubricated fingers down to circle Harry's balls and then his entrance. Harry's eyes widened, inhaling a startled gasp and tugging against Draco's hold on his hands. He pushed a little against Harry's entrance and was rewarded with a loud moan that sounded suspiciously like his name.

And then he was pushing in, and Harry was pushing against him, and Draco had his face buried in Harry's neck, and that was his excuse for why he didn't see Sirius Black until he cleared his throat. Draco wrenched his head up, staring over at the man while Harry tensed against him. He stepped to the side, shielding Harry's naked lower half from Black's view as he continued to glower at them.

"Um…" Harry muttered. "Uh, we can explain."

"Oh, I think I know exactly what you two were doing," Black answered, his voice hard and full of shock, and Draco would have laughed at Black's expression if he didn't feel like killing himself for letting them get caught like this.

"Sirius-," Harry started, leaning around Draco and trying to get a good look at his Godfather. Draco just sighed, leaning his head against Harry's shoulder and refusing to acknowledge the heat he could feel lighting up his face.

"You'd best get dressed, Harry," Black interrupted. "Breakfast is ready, and I'll be expecting you down immediately." He didn't even bother to look at Draco before he turned and left.

They just stood there after he left, still pressed against each other's bodies with Harry's arms pinned above his head, and Draco's hand tantalizingly close to Harry's entrance, and he couldn't _believe_ what had just happened. What they had almost done; what Black had unintentionally interrupted.

"Well," Harry said after a long minute. "It finally happened."

"What?" Draco answered, pulling his face away. He realized Harry was smiling, amusement gleaming in his tantalizing green eyes.

"We finally got caught while trying to shag in the middle of a hallway," he said. Draco observed remarkable self-control and didn't hit the twat.

"You fucking git!" Draco answered, yanking his hands back, and watching as Harry bent in half and started laughing for real. He almost lost his footing as he clutched as his stomach and continued to laugh. Draco stared at him, wondering vaguely if Harry had lost his mind.

"What is wrong with you?" He asked.

"Me?" Harry asked, still wheezing slightly. He wiped at his eyes and let out one last strangled gasp before he was coherent enough to speak again. "You should have seen your face. I've never seen you blush like that before."

"I do not blush," Draco answered immediately.

"And the look on Sirius' face," Harry continued, still smiling. "I thought he was going to pass out in shock."

"Are you going to pull up your pants any time soon?" Draco said, refusing to return Harry's smile. Harry immediately flushed, reaching down and yanking his pants and then his jeans back up. Then he glanced over at Draco, green eyes locking on him with all the amusement gone from his eyes.

"You're never going to touch me again, are you?"

Draco looked at him for a long time. He looked at the messy raven hair, the scattered clothes, the red rings around his wrists, the swollen lips, the forming bruise on his throat, his beautiful green eyes. Draco had lost quite a but of his arousal when Sirius Black had appeared, but he could feel it rapidly reappearing as he stood staring at Harry. He sighed; he couldn't imagine himself never touching Harry again. He didn't know why he had ever bothered to try.

He had been scared. He had been scared of watching him die, but staring at Harry now, after everything that had happened to him over the summer, he was more scared of losing him. He sighed and reached out, hooking one hand in Harry's belt loops and bring his body back into contact with Draco's. Harry gasped at the sensation, looking up to meet Draco's gaze with wide eyes.

"What are you doing?" He asked.

"I've not the slightest idea," Draco answered.

* * *

The next few weeks were uncomfortable to say the least. Sirius Black kept his eyes on Harry and Draco almost every second of the day. It was impossible to be alone, to tell Harry that he didn't have a clue what he was doing, that Harry didn't want him near as much as he seemed to think he did. He was almost grateful. He didn't want to have to have that conversation.

But at the same time, it was horribly annoying to always be watched. It would have been nice to be able to touch Harry, to brush his fingers along Harry's while passing the coffee without Black staring at him as if he was about to Avada Kadavra the lot of them.

Fortunately, after a couple weeks Black apparently decided it was time to take them to Diagon Alley to buy their school supplies. The stepped out of Grimmauld Palace to find a ministry car waiting for them. Draco hesitated while Harry just sighed as if he had been expecting this.

"They'll be escorting us," Sirius Black said, putting a hand on Harry's back and propelling him forward. Draco sighed and followed him into the car. It was horrible. He'd never ridden in anything vaguely resembling a muggle contraption before and he was less than willing to repeat the experience. He hated the way they had to stop and start and the way he was lurched and jerked about. By the time they arrived at the leaky cauldron, he was thoroughly ready to get out, hopefully without losing his breakfast though at that point he made no promises. Harry stepped out slower, leaning over him with a muffled chuckle.

"Are you alright?" He asked, placing his hand on Draco's arm.

"Come along, Harry," Black said, stepping up alongside them. Harry immediately dropped his hand with a hard scowl.

"Harry!" A loud voice boomed. Draco turned his head and then resisted the urge to groan. The great oaf stepped up to them, grabbing Harry, hugging him as if he'd just come back from the dead or some nonsense.

"Hagrid!" Harry answered when the half-giant released him. "I didn't know you would be here?"

"Yeah," Black said. "Hermione and the Weasleys are supposed to be-."

"Harry!" Granger's voice said, and then she was there, slamming into Harry and hugging him before he could protest. His arms went around her as the hoard of red-haired Weasleys appeared. Granger stepped back, and the Weasleys took turns hugging Harry.

Draco wondered belatedly if they were ever going to actually go inside.

"Hey, Draco," Granger said, turning toward him. He started, his eyes flipping away from Harry in surprise.

"Hello, Granger," he answered, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. She was taller than he remembered, her frizzy hair straighter and more styled with big brown eyes framed by long black lashes. She looked pretty. He supposed.

"Oh, don't be like that, Draco," she rolled her eyes once before stepping into his personal space and wrapping her arms around him. He stiffened. She was hugging him. She was hugging him without his permission. Didn't she know the last person that had done that had been cursed three ways to Sunday?

Draco hesitated for a long second before returning her hug, patting her lightly on the back. He didn't know why he did it, but he did know it felt good when she pulled back with that smile on her face.

Unfortunately, he did not receive such a welcome greeting from the rest of the Weasleys. Old lady Weasley gave him a long suspicious look before tucking Harry under her arm and pulling him into the Leaky Cauldron. Old man Weasley blinked at him, Girl Weasley frowned, the one with the scar just raised an eyebrow at him, and Ron Weasley scowled. Granger smiled at him before following them in. It wasn't welcoming though he supposed no one spit at him, so it wasn't the worst he could've expected.

Draco mostly kept away from the Weasleys as they moved down Diagon Alley. He could tell Granger was trying to keep him company, but she would rather be with Harry and Ron. Eventually, he just shooed her away with a pointed look and a flick of his wrist. Harry turned his head to look back at him several times, but every time he tried to get near Draco, either old lady Weasley or Black would turn him around and distract his attention. Draco didn't blame their distrust. He just wished he didn't deserve it.

It wasn't until he caught sight of Theodore Nott that they truly began to pay attention to him. It wasn't that Draco wasn't expecting the look of hate and revulsion that passed across Nott's face, it was just that he didn't expect Nott's head to turn toward him while drawing his wand in the middle of Diagon Alley.

Draco had his wand out in the next second, the spell on his lips, and taking a step back before he could stop himself. Unfortunately, that step was straight into Ron Weasley, who turned to snap at him only to realize what was going on. Granger was right next to him, moving to the other side of Draco and facing Nott with a dark look. And then Harry was there, ducking under Black's protective arm to stand beside Weasley. Draco had no idea where the rest of the Weasleys had gone; he wasn't about to question it. At least, not while he didn't have to deal with their distrustful stares.

"Hiding behind Gryffindors now, Malfoy?" Nott asked, his lips twisting in a vicious sneer.

"I'm not hiding behind anyone," he answered, his hand tightening on his wand.

"What do you want, Nott?" Granger asked.

"I would think it was obvious?" And then Pansy was there, striding across the small space to stand next to Nott. Draco wondered what she was playing at. She had never been an adamant follower of The Dark Lord; she had just been fond of sticking close to who had the most power. He wondered if she truly thought she was on the right side now or if she was just too afraid to walk away. He could understand that feeling.

"Really?" Harry asked, just a hairs breath away from a snarl. "Obvious how?"

"Well, you're the one who's friends with a bloody traitor," Nott answered.

"Can you betray something you never believed in?" Draco asked, and somehow it felt good to say it. It felt so good to let the words fall out and let all five of them stare at him as if he had spoken a foreign language. Because no, he hadn't believed in The Dark Lord, but he had been to afraid to say it. He had been too afraid and it felt so good to not have to be afraid of being himself anymore.

Even if there were other—darker—things he could never forget to fear.

"You see," Pansy sneered, and he could taste the hurt behind the gesture. "Such the actor. You really think if he could fool the lot of us, you stand a chance?" She asked, and Draco could do nothing but turn his face away.

"Don't pretend to know him," Harry said. Of course, it was Harry who came to his rescue. Of course, it was Harry who believed in him when he least deserved it.

"Whatever, Potter," Pansy scowled, flipping her hair in that way only she found attractive. "Just a warning." And then she was walking away, and Draco was left wondering how hurt he had really left Pansy.

"See you around, Malfoy," Nott glared one last time before following after her.

Draco didn't realize how tense he'd been until Harry put a hand on his arm. He jumped, and then realized how ridiculous that was. Malfoys did _not_ jump when people touched them. He forced himself to relax, to look at Harry without any guilt in his eyes. From the way Harry's eyebrows furrowed, he must not have done a good job.

"Are you alright?" Granger asked.

"You know we don't believe them, right?" Harry said. Draco blinked between them, wondering what the blood hell was wrong with them that they could trust so easily.

He couldn't find it in himself to ask.

"Thank you," he said, his throat dry enough that the words came out softer than he meant them to. Granger looked at him a little oddly, but Harry just patted his hand soothingly.

They continued down Diagon Alley, making their way through the shops. Harry somehow avoided Black and old lady Weasley after their encounter with Nott and Pansy, sticking close to Draco. He noticed Weasley had an infinity for looking at expensive things he _knew_ he couldn't afford, and Harry had a bad habit of staring at inexpensive things he could easily afford as if they were horribly out of his reach. Granger was like a mother, flitting between the three of them and making sure they picked up all their school supplies. The half-giant lumbered behind them, making comments every now and then but mostly leaving them alone.

Eventually, they stopped in front of a large colorful building labeled Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. The shop was brightly lit and full of spinning, revolving, flashing objects that were a stark contrast to the rest of the Diagon Alley. The bright purple poster pinned outside the door was done up almost the same as a Ministry one and said:

WHY ARE YOU WORRYING ABOUT  
YOU-KNOW-WHO?  
YOU SHOULD BE WORRYING ABOUT  
U-NO-POO—  
THE CONSTIPATION SENSATION  
THAT'S GRIPPING THE NATION!

Draco stared at it for a long second before he fully registered what exactly the sign was saying.

"This is brilliant!" He heard from behind him and turned to see both Weasley and Harry laughing at the sign before them. Draco wasn't sure he agreed, but he supposed he did rather admire the Twin Weasleys' gall if nothing else.

"Let's go inside," Harry said, his green eyes bright with excitement. Weasley followed him without hesitation, and then Granger was going grudgingly behind them, followed by Hagrid. No one paid any attention as Draco slipped to the side and avoided going into Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.

He didn't want to do it, but he knew it didn't matter what he wanted to do. He'd been waiting for a chance to do this since Dumbledore and Harry had showed up at his door.

He made his way down the streets, being careful that no Weasleys, Nott, or Pansy spotted him. He arrived at Knockturn Alley faster than he wanted to and ducked around the corner before turning and checking that no one was watching him. Knockturn Alley was the same as he remembered, dark and sinister, and the people watched him like meat on a stick. Fortunately, the shop he was looking for wasn't too far down the Alley.

Borgin and Burkes was the same as it always was. Dark artifacts noticeably laid out along the shelves as Borgin himself sat behind the desk and stared as Draco came inside. The air was stale and badly lit, and Draco fought the urge to light a couple more lights.

"Mr. Malfoy," Borgin said, standing and moving toward him. He resisted the urge to sigh; he knew how his father did business. Fear and intimidation. Borgin wouldn't help him unless he had to.

"The cabinet," Draco asked. "You still have it?"

"Of course, Mr. Malfoy, may I ask why you need it?"

"I'd like to buy it," Draco answered, turning cold blank eyes on him. He held a bag of galleons in front of Bogin's face and then dropped it into his palm. "And that's all you need to know." Borgin clenched his jaw but just nodded, weighing the bag in his hand. Draco was glad his fear of his father at least extended to Draco this far.

Draco moved over to the large black cabinet, running his hands along the sides before wrenching the door open and staring into the inside. It seemed as if the magic was still pulsing through the wood, strong and intact, but one could never truly tell.

"The magic," he asked. "Is it still intact?"

"As far as I know," Borgin answered. He shifted and cleared his throat as if he was about to admit something that made him mildly uncomfortable. "But I don't know where the other cabinet is, or if it even works."

"It doesn't," Draco said, closing the door again. "But I was rather hoping you would know how to fix it."

"Possibly," Borgin answered, shifting his feet and looking as if he wasn't about to commit himself to anything. And Draco didn't want to do it. He didn't even want to be here, touching this cabinet or looking at Borgin at all. "I'll need to see it, though. Why don't you bring it to the shop?"

"No," Draco said. "You won't be seeing anything, Borgin."

"Mr. Malfoy-."

"I understand your hesitation," Draco interrupted. "But I'm sure you'll find a way to help me."

"Mr. Malfoy, without seeing it, I must say it will be a very difficult job, perhaps impossible," Borgin licked his lips. He looked nervous. Draco wished he was more nervous. He wished he was nervous enough that Draco didn't have to make any veiled threats. "I couldn't guarantee anything."

"Yes, well, you'd better start," Draco said. "Or Fenrir Greyback will be very disappointed when he arrives."

"Fenrir Greyback…?" Borgin asked, licking his lips again.

"Yes," Draco answered. "He'll be dropping in from time to time to make sure you're giving the problem your full attention."

"There will be no need-."

"That's really not your decision," Draco said. He wanted to say it wasn't his decision either, but he knew that would only be counterproductive. "Now, I'll be going."

"Perhaps you'd like to take the cabinet now?" Borgin asked with just a little too much hope in his voice. Draco resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he looked at Borgin with indignant eyes. Borgin had the decency to flush and look away as Draco turned to leave.

"Oh, Mr. Malfoy!" Borgin called. Draco froze with his hand on the door. "I was sorry to hear about your mother. Poor soul." Draco turned his head to look at the man. He knew it was wrong, wrong to relish in the way Borgin flinched at his glare, dropping his gaze and looking anywhere but him.

"Thank you for you _consideration_ , Mr. Borgin," Draco said, pulling open the door before walking out.

"Of course not… sir," he heard the strangled voice sound behind him and knew he'd passed the test Borgin had set for him. He closed the door behind him, and sighed. He wondered when the time would come that he didn't have to lie in order to pass the tests before him.


	25. Part 2: Chapter 5

_**Hello, everyone. Thank you again for your completely wonderful reviews! Please keep them coming :)**_

 _ **Warning: text from original book**_

Chapter 5- To be Suspicious

Harry was staring. He knew he was probably being too obvious, but he couldn't stop himself. He couldn't stop the doubt and intrigue that had welled up inside him and made him stare at Draco, looking for all and any sign that what they had seen was true.

Harry had almost been blindsided when he'd turned around in Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes and Draco had been gone. Hermione, Ron, and him had gone looking for him, only to discover Draco had gone down Knockturn Alley and was looking at some wardrobe in Borgin and Burkes. Harry didn't understand. He _couldn't_ understand and maybe that was because he didn't want to.

Ron was no help; he was hyper suspicious of Draco, of the opinion they needed to turn Draco over to The Order immediately. Hermione was less suspicious and more concerned; she seemed to believe Draco was doing something for The Order.

Neither option seemed particularly right to Harry. Draco seemed too guilty to still be working with The Order, besides the argument Harry had heard between him and Dumbledore. But then, Harry just couldn't see Draco working with Voldemort, not after what happened last year.

He didn't tell Sirius what happened, no matter how much it wriggled around in his stomach when he looked at his Godfather. Sirius was already suspicious enough of Draco and his motives without Harry adding to that suspicion. So, they continued over the next few weeks as they had been; Sirius hanging around too much to have a real conversation, and Harry just a little too relieved because he was terrified of what Draco would say.

And then Draco and Harry were boarding the Hogwarts express, Harry trying not to act different and knowing he was failing. And now that he was looking for it, he knew Draco was doing the same thing. There was that brush of guilt in his eyes, that wary turn of his head, the way he clamped his hand down over Harry's just a little too tightly as if he was afraid Harry was about to toss it aside.

Harry ignored the crowd of gaping girls around them, turning to Draco instead.

"Shall we find a compartment?" He asked. Draco shrugged noncommittally, and Harry simply took this for a yes.

"Hey, Harry," the voice sounded behind him. He paused mid-step, turning to face Neville and Luna standing and smiling at him warmly.

"Hey!" He answered. Neville stepped forward and then froze when he noticed Draco's hand laced around Harry's. Neville turned a startling shade of red and promptly averted his eyes. Harry felt Draco stiffen and try to pull his hand back, but he kept a firm hold, refusing to let Draco withdraw.

"Oh, hello, Draco," Luna said serenely as if just now realizing he was standing there. "Had a good summer?"

"Fine," Draco answered, so stiff Harry thought he could push him just a little, and the Slytherin would go toppling over.

"Shall we find seats, then?" Harry asked, trying not to sound too awkward. Thankfully Neville and Luna only nodded. He could feel the stares on his back as they wound their way through the train searching for an empty compartment. He couldn't tell if they were staring at him because he was with Draco or because of who _he_ was though. He found he kind of liked not knowing.

"Everyone's staring," Neville said after they'd finally found an empty compartment. Harry dragged Draco down next to him, refusing to let go of his hand and give him a reasonable excuse to run off again. Neville and Luna relaxed against the opposite seats. "They're even looking at us because we're with you," he gestured vaguely to Luna and himself.

"They're staring because you were at the ministry too," Harry answered, shifting uncomfortably.

"Don't be daft, Harry," Draco answered, his voice just south of friendly. "You really shouldn't play down your fame like that. If any of us had been at the Ministry without you, it would have been old news by now." Harry scowled at him, but Draco just looked back at him grey eyes that were almost silver in the shining sunlight.

Harry was just opening his mouth to snap something uncouth at Draco when the door to their compartment slid open to reveal several nervous giggling girls who looked to be in the fourth-year. Draco immediately sighed, and Harry found himself looking from him to the girls and back again, slightly puzzled.

"You ask him!"

"No, you!"

"I'll do it!" One said, stepping forward to step into the compartment boldly. She had long black hair and large black eyes that gave her an altogether slightly intimidating look as she fixed her gaze on Harry.

"Hi, Harry-," she started.

"Hello, Romilda," Draco answered, and the girl flinched, her eyes flicking from Harry to Draco.

"Draco!" She said, her large eyes widening in obviously fake surprise. "What're you doing here?"

"What, indeed," he answered. And Draco was all Slytherin business now, his grey eyes glimmering mischievously as he looked Romilda up and down. He sat nimrod straight, his fingers curling tightly around Harry's as he pressed a knee against Harry's thigh. "It does seem like the place to be, doesn't it?"

"Hm," she answered, narrowing her eyes. "Well, I was just going to ask if Harry wanted to join me and my friends," and she turned toward him with a blazing smile that was nevertheless fake.

"Well, I think he's quite comfortable where he is," Draco purred, shifting closer to Harry and reaching out until his free hand was curled possessively around his knee. Harry's eyes widened as Draco lowered his head and let his breath waft across his neck, his heart beating erratically. "Aren't you, Harry?"

"I-," he coughed, trying to get the wheezing sound out of his voice. "I am." He managed.

"Hmm." Romilda tilted her chin up, throwing her nose in the air and left the compartment in a huff, slamming the door behind her, and her wide-eyed friends.

"What was that?" Harry asked, turning to Draco with wide eyes. And he could tell from the way Draco smiled, he was blushing. His lips curled up, the fingers around Harry's knee tightening even further.

"That was Romilda Vane," Luna answered, her voice pitching with a serene wave. Harry jerked his head around, his face heating up even more. He had completely forgotten they were even there, and from the way Draco released him, scooting away until he was barely touching Harry anymore, he thought Draco had too.

"Who's Romilda Vane?" Harry asked, already missing Draco's heat against him.

"Someone who could delight in catching the great savor of the wizarding world," Draco answered, his top lip curling with something like disgust. "Do me a favor and never be alone with her." Harry turned to stare at Draco, only now realizing how very obviously Draco had been sending Romilda 'mine' vibes throughout the whole conversation.

"Was that the point?" He asked, and Draco looked back at him with innocent silver-grey eyes and a smile that said it all.

* * *

Ron and Hermione didn't appear until around noon when the lunch trolley was making its way down the halls. Neville, Luna, and him were talking about Quidditch while Draco stared moodily out the window. He'd never released his hand which Harry supposed was a good thing, but he couldn't help but wonder what Draco was thinking about, what had him so preoccupied and upset.

Ron staggered in first, muttering something about food while Hermione came in more subdued, giving Draco a once over before sitting down on Harry's other side.

"Where have you been?" Harry asked. They stared at him for a long minute before Hermione spoke.

"We've been on Prefect duty?"

"But…" Harry trailed off, his eyes flicking to Draco, who seemed to feel his gaze. He looked up and returned Harry's gaze with a raised eyebrow. "Why weren't you on Prefect duty?"

"Because, Harry," he answered with exaggerated slowness. "I didn't feel like it."

"What? So, you just decided not to go?" Harry asked.

"I decided I had more important things to worry about," Draco answered, turning his face away and looking back out the window. Harry knew a dismissal from the conversation when he heard one, but he just couldn't stop himself from thinking of Draco sneaking away in Knockturn alley, of Draco touching the cabinet, and the words they had heard through Ron's extendable ears.

"Like what?" Harry asked. There was a moment of tense silence where Harry practically saw Draco's body tense as tight as a coiled spring. Eventually, he turned toward Harry and that guilty look was shinning in his eyes again.

"It's nothing, Harry," Draco sighed. "It's just hard to be Prefect over people who hate you." It made sense. It was probably as good an answer as any, Harry supposed. But there was still something in the way Draco said it, in the way he turned his face away and closed his eyes off that made Harry sure he was lying.

"But-," Harry started, but the sliding of the compartment door cut him off. A girl who looked to be in her third year stepped in, holding two fancy looking scrolls tied with violet ribbon. Her eyes darted around, and Harry realized this was not the right place to be having this conversation anyway.

"I'm suppose to deliver these to Neville Longbottom and Harry P-Potter," she said, holding them out. Harry sighed and accepted the scroll, ignoring the way the girl scrambled out of the compartment with a bright blush.

"What is it?" Ron asked.

"An invitation," Harry frowned, ignoring the way Draco leaning over his shoulder to read.

 _Harry,_

 _I would be delighted if you would join me for a bite of lunch in compartment C_

 _Sincerely,_

 _Professor H. E. F. Slughorn_

"The pompous git," Draco muttered.

"Who's Professor Slughorn?" Neville asked.

"A new professor," Harry sighed. "I suppose we'll have to go."

"You don't have to do anything," Draco answered, his voice still that low and bitter tread that Harry didn't know what to do with.

"I'm surprised he didn't invite you, Draco," Harry told him. He wasn't really, Slughorn has seemed less than impressed when they'd met the first time, but he was surprised that he didn't invite Draco just to get to Harry.

"Yes, well, can't say I'm not glad," Draco answered, fixing his eyes on Harry intently. "Just be careful, Harry. Slughorn is a Slytherin for a reason," his nose crinkled as if he had a disgusting thought. "And I doubt it was because of his mustache." Harry smiled and shook his head as Neville and him slipped out of the compartment.

"What do you think he wants?" Neville asked as they walked along down the length of the train. He seemed more nervous than strictly necessary; Harry blamed Draco for that.

"I've no idea," Harry shrugged. "But I suppose we'll find out."

They made their way down the length of the train, stopping in front of compartment C and hesitating before going inside. Neville cast Harry a nervous look but Harry just shook his head and pushed the sliding door open. They weren't the only ones Slughorn had invited, though judging by the way Slughorn jumped up and headed immediately for him, he was the most warmly anticipated.

"Harry, m'boy!" Slughorn exclaimed. "Good to see you, good to see you! And you must be Mr. Longbottom?" Neville nodded, looking too scared to open his mouth. Harry made a silent agreement with himself to tell Draco not to say foreboding things in front of Neville again. Not if it was going to make him at like this.

Slughorn gestured them forward, sitting Harry and Neville in the last two seats of the room. Slughorn himself was busy gesturing around the room, introducing the people already seated. Somehow Neville had managed to sit next to Blaise Zabini and Harry had sat next to Ginny.

"How did you end up here?" Harry asked, leaning over to whisper at Ginny while Slughorn was busy interrogating one of his other guests.

"Slughorn saw he perform a Bat-Bogey Hex on Zacharias Smith. He kept asking me what happened at the Ministry, and I finally couldn't take it any longer. Slughorn came in and instead of giving me detention, he told me what a good hex it was and invited me to this lunch," her eyes widened dramatically. "I didn't realize there would be so many famous people here though."

"Famous people?" Blaise snorted from across the table. He was twirling fork between his fingers, his lips pressed so thin with annoyance they were nearly invisible. "More like people with famous parents," his eyes flicked to Harry. "Well, except for Potter."

"W-what do you mean?" Neville asked, his eyes wide as he stared at Blaise. Blaise snorted scornfully before turning back to his pheasant.

"Ah, Blaise," Slughorn said, turning to Blaise just in time to see the Slytherin clear his face and smile winningly. "How's your mother doing these days?"

"She's fine, I suppose," Blaise answered, his eyes narrowing marginally. He leaned back in his seat, setting his fork down as he looked back at Slughorn. "Mourning the passing of her seventh husband, tragic thing."

"Oh, poor thing, poor thing," Slughorn said, sighing dramatically. "Still as beautiful as ever, I assume?"

"Of course," Blaise answered. "I think she posed for a couple of magazines last week and gave an interview. Something about them believing she was the most beautiful witch alive."

"Well, with so many rich and powerful husbands behind her, who can blame them?" Slughorn answered.

"Who indeed?" Blaise raised an eyebrow, poking his pheasant with the tongs of his fork. "Even if they all had to end so tragically." Slughorn laughed, but Harry himself found himself just staring at Blaise. His attitude seemed strange to Harry; he didn't seem to have any fondness for his mother, nor though did he seem to have any scorn. It was as if he didn't care either way. It was an indifference toward his family that Harry just couldn't understand.

He found he wasn't the only one perplexed, both Ginny and Neville staring at Blaise with a fixed kind of fascination throughout his conversation with Slughorn. That was until Slughorn turned toward Neville and started asking about his parents.

"And how are your parents doing, Mr. Longbottom? I must say it was a horrible tragedy what happened to them," Slughorn said.

"I…" Neville answered, his face turning bright red in embarrassment. "They're doing well, I guess."

"Ah," Slughorn said. There was a long beat where everyone just kind of looked at each other. Harry wondered if anyone else in the room even knew what had happened to Neville's parents or if Slughorn had just blind-sighted them. Slughorn gave Neville one last contemplative look before turning to Harry with a large smile.

"And now, Harry Potter!" He said. "'The Chosen One,' they're calling you now!" Harry just looked back at him, holding his tongue and hoping Slughorn wouldn't ask him anything else. The rest of the room was staring at him, waiting for him to say something as Slughorn went on. "Of course, one doesn't know what to believe, the _Prophet_ has been known to print inaccuracies, make mistakes—but there does seem to be little doubt given the number of witnesses, that there was _quite_ a disturbance at the Ministry and that you were there in the thick of it all!"

Harry stared back at him. He didn't know what to say. He knew Slughorn was fishing; he knew he wanted Harry to admit it all. He heard Dumbledore's voice echoing through his head, telling him Slughorn would try to collect him; that he would be the jewel of his collection. Harry was half in his mind to just sit back and let him, surely Dumbledore had some plan in place that he needed Slughorn for.

And then he remembered Draco's face, his disapproval and anger when Dumbledore manipulated him. Draco's voice echoing through his head, 'You deserve to be happy. You.' telling him how it wasn't his job to save the world, telling him how he always ran into danger and never considered the consequences. Draco looking at him with poorly concealed concern and telling him to be careful.

Should he just let sit back and let Slughorn collect him because he thought it was what Dumbledore would want? Harry _knew_ what Draco would say to that.

"Well," Harry answered, meeting Slughorn's gaze with a small smile. "You know how the _Prophet_ is, always exaggerating."

"Yes…well…" Slughorn frowned, looking disappointed. "it is true the _Prophet_ often exaggerates, of course…" he trailed off, his eyes lingering on Harry just a second too long before he turned away and began a long tangent about one of his former students.

Slughorn talked for a long time, telling stories of his former students and his illustrious 'slug club.' Blaise caught Harry by surprise several times when he rolled his eyes or had to hide a chuckled behind his hand. He even cracked a joke about slugs at one point that had Neville laughing so hard Harry had to kick him under the table when Slughorn looked their way. For Harry's part, Ginny was a balm. Every time he felt on the edge of dying of boredom or wanted to just get up and leave, she would turn to him and smile or roll her eyes good-naturedly. It relaxed him more than he liked to admit.

Eventually, Slughorn seemed to notice the time, and he sent them their separate ways with a smile and an invitation to come see him anytime. Harry stepped into the darkened corridor with Ginny on his one side and Neville scrambling to keep pace on his other side.

"Why didn't you tell him about the Ministry?" Ginny asked.

"Yes, Potter, why indeed?" Blaise's voice asked. Harry turned his head to look back at him, raising an eyebrow in surprise.

"I don't see how that's any of your business, Zabini," Ginny answered, scowling back at him.

"Easy now," Blaise held up his hands as if fending off an attack. "I don't really care one way or the other."

"Then why are you here?" Ginny asked, her scowl relaxing into a frown.

"I was just wondering if Potter there knew where Draco was," Blaise shrugged. Harry looked at him for a long minute. He wondered why Blaise was asking about Draco. They weren't close, were they? Draco had certainly never said anything about him, but Blaise had been the one to warn Harry about Draco being missing last year.

"Hey, guys," Harry said. "Do you mind if I have a word with Blaise?"

"But-," Ginny started to protest, but Harry just looked at her, and she sighed. Neville looked uncertainly between Blaise and him before nodding reluctantly, and they both turned and left Harry and Blaise to talk. Harry looked over his shoulder, feeling paranoid, before stepping closer to Blaise. He raised an eyebrow but made no move to step away from Harry.

"Why are you asking about Draco?" Harry asked.

"Don't be dense, Potter," Blaise rolled his eyes. "Draco was my friend. After he falls off the face of the planet all summer, not to mention what happened to his mother, I find myself concerned."

"His mother," Harry answered, feeling his eyes widen. "What happened to his mother?"

"I…" Blaise stared at him before blinking hard and turning his face away. He had an uncomfortably nauseous expression that Harry didn't even know Slytherin's could wear. "You didn't know?"

"Know about what?" Harry answered, resisting the urge to snap.

"Look," Blaise answered, baring his teeth in that Slytherin style intimidation of a smile. "It's nothing, I'm sure. Just tell Draco I was asking." He stepped back, turning as if he would leave. Harry grabbed his arm, wrenching him back and ignoring Blaise's snarl of annoyance.

"If you know what's going on with Draco, you need to tell me!"

"Well, I don't!" Blaise snapped, yanking his arm away. "And even if I did, I wouldn't tell you anything because it wouldn't be your business."

"If Draco needs help-," Harry said.

"Then you would be last person who could give it to him," Blaise answered. "For once in your life just drop something, Potter." His dark eyes ran over Harry, narrowed and full of a half-concealed emotion that Harry couldn't read. "Trust that Draco knows what he's doing. In my experience, he usually does."

And then Blaise was walking away from him, leaving Harry feeling more confused than when he'd started talking to Blaise. He _wanted_ to take his advice, to let it go and just trust Draco, but he wasn't sure if he knew how.


	26. Part 2: Chapter 6

_**Warning: Text from original book,**_

Chapter 6- To be Trusted

"Charms, Transfiguration, Alchemy, and Potions," Severus said, reading off the chart in front of him. His eyes flicked up to Draco before moving back down the piece of paper in his hands. "You won't be continuing with Defense Against the Dark Arts or Herbology?"

"There's nothing new left to learn," Draco answered.

"And what about Ancient Runes," Severus raised an eyebrow. "I remember you quite enjoying that class in the past."

"Yes, well…" Draco shifted. He wished Severus would just leave him alone. It wasn't as if he didn't know what Draco was supposed to be doing; he was just being difficult to be difficult. "It was always a bore."

"Well, boring or not, I think you should at least make an effort," Severus answered.

"But-," Draco started to protest but Severus was already scribbling across the page and holding it out for Draco to take. "I haven't the books." He said. "I didn't buy them."

"No problem there," Severus smiled, that twist of his lips that send Draco's teeth on edge. He reached behind him, lifting the three books from behind his desk and handing them to Draco. He huffed at the sight of the Ancient Rune, Herbology, and Defense textbooks before turning on his heel and walking away from Severus.

He couldn't believe the man. He couldn't believe his interference. He _knew_ Draco couldn't be distracted this year; he knew there were more important things than school homework and still he threw work and books into Draco's arms as if he were any other student.

"At least Professor Snape is the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor this year," Blaise said. Draco would have jumped except Malfoy's didn't jump.

"Why would I care about that?" He answered, scowling over at him. Truth be told if Severus had been the potions teacher, Draco would have dropped that too. From the way Severus had looked at him, he had a good idea that he knew that. It wasn't personal, it was just that Severus knew him too well to just let anything he said or did go. It was better to just take a step back and stay away.

"How would I know what you care about?" Blaise answered. They were walking down the corridor, Blaise not even bothering to look as if he was heading to his class while Draco wished a professor—any professor—would swoop down on him and tell him off because there was simply no way Blaise had managed to get into a NEWT level Ancient Runes. "It's not like you talk to me anyone."

"Is there a point to this?" Draco asked as he continued walking. He had already tried his hardest to ignore Blaise as much as possible. He hadn't exactly been subtle at the beginning of the year feast.

Not that anything had been particularly pleasant during the beginning of the year feast. He had had to walk in and separate from Harry, walking across the Great Hall by himself while the entirety of the Slytherin house stared at him. He'd tried to keep his head down and his hands on his plate in front of him, but that hadn't stopped Nott's loud insults that barreled across the table toward him or Blaise's pointed looks of mixed concern and incredulousness.

He wasn't exactly surprised when he found out that Slughorn had been the potions Professor, at least, not as surprised as Harry had seemed to be. The man just didn't seem like he had the guts to teach something like Defense Against the Dark Arts.

When the feast had ended, he knew he was supposed to escort the first-years back to the Slytherin commons but when Nott turned and sneered at him, he just couldn't find it in himself to do anything but head back to his room and stare up at the ceiling. If that made him a coward, he was beyond caring anymore.

"Why didn't you tell Potter what was going on?" Blaise asked.

"Because it's none of his business," Draco answered and was pleased when he managed to keep the snap out of his voice. "And it's also none of yours. Now if you'll excuse me, I do have a class to get to." Draco turned and away from Blaise and headed into the Ancient Runes classroom.

The room was mostly empty with only about 10 students milling around and Professor Babbling was already up front, scribbling something one the board. Draco started to move to his usual seat somewhere around the middle of the room, silently hoping there wouldn't be too many Slytherins to throw insults at him.

"Draco!" A voice called, and he stopped in his tracks, turning to face Granger. She was sitting at the front of the room, smiling back at him as if they were lifelong friends. He hesitated, staring at her. She'd never invited him to sit with her before but then he'd also been pretending to hate the lot of them because of his father and Umbridge.

There was no one else he would remotely be inclined to sit with, a few Ravenclaws, a couple Hufflepuffs, Granger looked to be the only Gryffindor, and a Slytherin 6th year who eyed Draco warily. He sighed and moved over to sit by Granger, wondering idly whether she was going to talk his ear off the entire time.

"Draco," she said as soon as he'd taken his seat. "I'd wondered if you were going to take this class again." He raised an eyebrow, but she just continued to talk as if she hadn't seen. "It'll be nice to have someone to study with for once," she said, smiling brightly at him.

He didn't really have a response to that or the easy way Granger talked to him. She seemed to genuinely like him, not just put up with his presence because Harry liked him. It was strange, but Draco found he didn't much mind her either. She wasn't quite the annoying know it all everyone-he-had always said she was.

Fortunately for him, Professor Babbling started talking then, turning toward them and lecturing about the beginning of the year. It was mostly about what they already knew, going over the runes they'd already learned before stepping into learning their new things for the year. It was interesting. Ancient Runes always was. The problem was that Draco just didn't have the time to be sitting here, much less working on a 15in essay, two translations, and readings to do by Wednesday.

When Professor Babbling released them again, Granger was already talking, hefting her book bag and following Draco out of the room.

"And to think Harry and Ron are probably sitting up in the Gryffindor tower playing wizard's chess or something," she huffed.

"What?" Draco answered. "I'm sure they're reviewing their Defense textbooks. They know how Severus is." Granger cast him a disbelieving look.

"No way," she said. "I'm sure they haven't even cracked it open."

"Weasley may be that stupid but Harry isn't," Draco answered. And Granger was smiling at him, not that sweat smile from before but a challenging one, all raised eyebrows and contest gleaming in her eyes. For the first time, Draco wondered what it would be like to have someone like Hermione Granger as a real friend.

"I bet you not," she said.

"Hermione Granger," Draco found himself saying, an answering smile dancing along his lips. "I never took you for a someone who takes bets," he smirked widely. "Especially, when you know you couldn't possibly win."

"We'll see," she said. They stopped walking, halting in front of the Defense classroom that Severus now occupied. They looked to be around the first to arrive and waited several minutes before Harry and Weasley showed up. Harry's hair was a messy tangle on top of his head and his baggy clothes hung off his frame as he stumbled alongside Weasley. Draco almost blushed when Harry's bright eyes met his, but Malfoys didn't blush. Instead he cleared his throat and turned his head away.

"Do you ever comb your hair?" He asked. Harry blinked at him once before grinning cheekily.

"There's no point when it doesn't lie flat anyway."

"Sometimes you're such a muggle, Harry," he glared, and Harry laughed again.

"We have so much homework from Runes," Granger said before turning her large brown eyes on him. "Right, Draco?" He blinked in surprise before answering, wondering why she was talking to him when Weasley and Harry were right there.

"Not near so much as Severus will give us," Draco answered.

"I didn't know you were taking Ancient Runes," Harry said.

"I…" He shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah."

"Speaking of homework," Granger said, throwing Draco a knowing smirk before turning innocent brown eyes on Harry and Weasley. "Have you looked at the Defense textbook?" Their eyes widened as they looked back at her.

"No," Harry answered, his bright eyes wide with panic, and Draco had to resist the urge to laugh.

"Why?" Weasley asked, his face turning red with the same kind of fear echoing across Harry's face. "Should we have?"

"Well," Draco said, his voice a low drawl. "I guess you were right, Granger. Horrible disappointment."

"And what will you give me?" She asked, her smile wide. Harry and Weasley blinked at them, their fear turning to confusion to embarrassment.

"Give you?" Draco asked, his voice pitching in mock horror. "Granger if you wanted something you should have asked for it."

Hermione laughed while Harry and Weasley gaped at them.

* * *

"That was brilliant!" Weasley was laughing as they stepped out of the Defense classroom and walked down the hall. Draco was in deep Contemplation of his sanity.

"I can't believe you," Draco said, feeling like smacking Harry but figuring a detention with Severus was enough of a punishment for him. "Why didn't you just cast the spell non-verbally?"

"Like it's so easy," Harry answered, his voice a low annoyed mutter. But then he was probably still annoyed that Severus had picked on him for muttering the spell under his breath when everyone had been doing it. Well, everyone but Hermione.

"Draco's right," Granger said. "You really shouldn't have back talked him."

"He was trying to curse me!" Harry persisted. "As if I didn't have enough of that during my Occlumency lessons last year."

"You're such an idiot," Draco said, actually smacking Harry across the back of his head this time.

"Ouch," Harry muttered, rubbing the back of his head, and throwing Draco a pathetic wide green look. "Why'd you do that?" Draco just sighed. Just because Severus had pulled Harry to the front of the room, tried to curse him, and then taunted him for not being able to block it non-verbally, didn't mean _Harry_ had the excuse to be an idiot.

"Harry! Hey! Harry!" A voice called. They turned to see a rather short boy with dark brown hair coming toward them and waving a piece of parchment. Draco recognized him vaguely as one of the people who'd been on the Gryffindor team last year. "For you," he said, holding the parchment out for Harry. Harry took it from him, holding it between his fingers as he looked over the thin handwriting. Even Draco recognized Dumbledore's handwriting scrawling across the parchment.

"Listen, I heard you're the new captain," the boy was saying. "When're you holding trials?"

"I'm not sure yet," Harry answered distractedly before turning away and heading toward Granger and Weasley, leaving the boy mid-sentence.

"Hey," Harry said, pulling the parchment open as he reached Weasley and Granger. "Look at this."

 _Dear Harry,_

 _I would like to start our private lessons this Saturday. Kindly come to my office at 8PM. I hope you enjoy your first day at school. And since I expect you'll be spending most of your day with Draco, do invite him along if you are so inclined._

 _Yours Sincerely,_

 _Albus Dumbledore_

 _PS I enjoy Acid Pops_

"Invite me along?" Draco asked, trying to look over Harry's shoulder at the note. "Why would he want me there?"

"I think it's more if I want you there," Harry answered, rubbing the back of his neck as they walked along. "He does say, if I'm so inclined."

"Well, why would you be," Weasley said. "It's not as if we can trust…." he trailed off as Granger and Harry glared at him. Draco could only look away; Weasley was right, they couldn't trust him.

"I should go," Draco said. They had stopped walking, standing awkwardly in the middle of the hall and it was a simple thing for Draco to take a step back and turn away from them. He didn't know what he was doing, still hanging around the three of them, pretending as if any of this would work. He'd told himself to stay away from Severus because he knew him too well; he should have been doing the same thing to Harry, not-

"Draco," Harry caught him by the arm, stopping him from leaving. "Ron didn't mean it like that. You know I want you to come with me." And looking into Harry's clear intent green eyes, it was easy to believe. The problem was, he didn't deserve that trust.

"Harry-."

"Come on," Granger interrupted. "We all have a free period right now anyway. Why don't we head down to the library and start on Professor Snape's homework?"

Draco blinked between them. He should have said no. If he was sane, he would have said no, but he couldn't.

They spent the rest of the period working on Severus' homework. It was surprisingly hard, and Draco found himself horribly out of his depth more than once. Which was impressive considering all that Severus had taught him throughout his life. Weasley was useless, but Harry-though terrible at the theory-was unexpectedly helpful, pointing out things and facts that Draco had forgotten or Granger had to look up to be sure of. Still, they had barely finished when Granger had to head off to Arithmancy, and Draco went to Alchemy.

It was an interesting class. Draco learned a lot in a very short amount of time. Unfortunately, he was given even more homework that he just didn't have time to do. He left Alchemy, and hesitated. He wanted to go back down to the library, to check and see if Harry was still there, but he knew better. Even if Harry was still waiting for him, he didn't have the time to waste.

Draco turned and headed up to the seventh floor. He stopped in front of the long corridor and sighed, walking back and forth, back and forth, back and forth before pulling the door open and revealing the large room of lost things. He had found the room by accident, wanting to get lost sometimes last year. And he _had_ gotten horribly lost in this room. Thankfully, he hadn't lost himself forever, instead he had learned that getting lost wasn't actually what he wanted.

He walked through the large space, finding his way easily now that he knew what he was looking for. He'd found the cabinet by accident too. He'd thought it was interesting that it was the exact copy of the one in Borgin and Burkes but hadn't given it a second thought until Voldemort had shown up at his house and demanded…

He sighed, running his hands along the wood. Part of him wished he'd never seen it.

He spent his whole break in the room of requirement, working on the cabinet and taking notes all the while. When the bell rang for double potions, he turned away and made his way out, heading down the stairs and into the dungeons.


	27. Part 2: Chapter 7

_**Thank you for the wonderful reviews!**_

 _ **Warning: text from original book**_

Chapter 7- To be Caught

"That girl, Merope… That was Voldemort's mother?" Harry asked. Dumbledore nodded gravely, his eyes flicking between Harry and Draco as they soaked up what they'd seen.

The memory had been intense. A family of three wizards receiving a summons to the Ministry because the son had cursed a muggle. A muggle that the daughter was apparently pinning over. The scene had turned ugly fast, leaving Harry's mind spinning as Dumbledore took them away.

"She was," Dumbledore answered. "And the man, Tom Riddle senior, was his father."

"I don't understand," Harry frowned. "How did they end up married?"

"I think you're forgetting Merope was a Witch," Dumbledore answered.

"So, what," Draco said. He was scowling, his lips turned down in that thoughtful way of his. "Merope used a love potion to make Riddle love her?"

"That's what I believe," Dumbledore answered. "A few months after their marriage, Tom Riddle returned to his manor house and spoke of being hoodwinked and taken in. I'm sure this means he was now free of her enchantment. In any case, he left Merope while she was pregnant, and she died soon after, leaving Tom Riddle junior to be raised in an orphanage."

He felt Draco shudder in the chair beside him and looked over. Draco was all tense muscles and hard lines, sitting up a little too straight in his chair to be relaxed. Harry couldn't blame him; it was disturbing to realize that Voldemort had come from a mother and father just as he had. That his mother had bewitched hi father and that was the reason he'd grown up alone.

"I think that's enough for now," Dumbledore said, cutting easily through Harry's thoughts.

"Yes, sir," he answered. He stood and hesitated, waiting for Draco to rise before following out after him. He stopped when Draco opened the door, turning to ask Dumbledore one last question. "Sir, am I allowed to tell Ron and Hermione everything you've told me?" He felt Draco tense behind him but kept his eyes on Dumbledore.

"Yes, I think Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger have proven themselves trustworthy, just make sure they don't repeat this to anyone else."

"Yes, sir," Harry answered before turning back and walking down the stairs after Draco.

Draco stopped at the bottom, watching as the gargoyle statue pivoted back up and around, closing off the staircase to the Headmaster's room. Only after it was back in place did he turn and look at Harry, his lips still turned down in a frown.

"Why did he show us that?" Draco asked. "To make us understand why The Dark Lord hates muggles so much or to show us that he really is a descendant of Slytherin?"

"I don't know," Harry answered. "Maybe it has something to do with the prophecy." Draco's eyes immediately tightened, and he turned his face away. He was silent for so long, Harry finally grew tired of waiting for him to speak. "How long are you going to be upset about the prophecy, Draco?" And Draco's eyes flashed back to him, silver-grey and angry.

"How long _should_ I be upset about a prophecy that basically tells you to sacrifice yourself for the greater good of the world, Harry?"

"Sometimes you act like I'm going to throw myself bodily at Voldemort," Harry sighed gustily, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. "Has it ever occurred to you that I might just win?"

"I know," Draco answered, and his voice was subdued. "Sometimes it's just…" he trailed off before shaking his head and starting again. "Sometimes it's just impossible to forget who you are." Harry felt a bitter pang shoot through him. It wasn't that he didn't want Draco to be happy; he did. It was just that he was tired of fighting this battle, of pretending to be something he wasn't just for Draco. And if the way Draco had to be with Harry was to forget that part of him, well, that didn't exactly make him feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

"I'm not going to die," he said finally, and Draco eyes locked on his. He held Draco's gaze, waiting for him to say something else, but he never did.

Draco took three steps forward and was suddenly _there_ , his fingers interlocking in Harry's hair and pulling Harry's face up to meet his own. Harry gasped against his lips, and Draco's tongue was suddenly in his mouth licking and sucking. And he was being so gentle, so horribly uncharacteristically gentle that Harry had no idea what to _do_ with himself. He brought his hands up, griping Draco's shoulders but not really daring to touch.

Draco's body was lined up against Harry's, just brushing enough that he could feel his erecting through their clothes, he could feel his muscles straining and stretched, but neither of them was getting any real friction. And Draco seemed determined to keep it like that. His hands stroking through Harry's hair, not pulling or tugging. His tongue caressing his mouth, not biting or sharp.

It was a different kind of intensity. It still made Harry seethe and burn and feel like he couldn't move, but it also made him feel like a little puddle of melted goo. In that moment, he could have believed that Draco would never have hurt him.

Then Draco made a half keening, half moaning sound in the back of his throat, pulling his lips away from Harry's to bury his face into his neck. They just stood there, panting against each other for a long moment. Draco was silent, his chest heaving as Harry wondered what in Merlin's name had just happened.

Draco's head snapped out of his neck suddenly, as if he'd been smacked. The hand still buried in Harry's hair turned slightly painful as it gripped and tugged until Harry's face was tilted upward, and he was looking up into silver-grey eyes. He felt the arousal spark low in his belly and trickle in his already hard cock, making it ache as he met the look from Draco he was used to. The one that spoke of pleasure mixed with pain and the release of so many emotions he was sure it couldn't be healthy.

"You'd better not die, Potter," Draco told him, and then he released his hair, stepped back, and began to walk away.

"Wait!" Harry called after him. "That's it?" Draco stopped for a minute, turning just enough for Harry to catch the arousal in his eyes.

"Hmm," and then he was gone around the corner.

Harry groaned, leaning against the nearest wall. One hand dropped to his still hard crotch while he thought up new ways to curse Draco Malfoy's continued torment of him.

* * *

They were just coming out of Hagrid's hut when Harry caught sight of Draco. He wasn't sure if he was meant to see; judging from the way Draco was sneaking out of the Forbidden forest, looking as if he was hiding something under his cloak, Harry would say no.

"What's the ferret doing in the forest?" Ron asked as soon as Harry pointed him out.

"Ron," Hermione immediately answered. "Can't the two of you try to be civil?"

"Civil?" Ron asked, sounding slightly scandalized. "I was just asking a question." Harry mostly ignored them, choosing to watch as Draco walked up the path and away from the forest. He _knew_ Draco was sneaking around with something, and he wanted to know what it was. Preferably with Draco telling him.

"Draco!" Harry stepped out, waving a hand. Draco jumped, twisting his head around to fix Harry with startled grey eyes.

"Harry, what are you doing?"

"We could ask you the same thing?" Ron answered. "What are you doing, sneaking around in the Forbidden forest?"

"I wasn't sneaking," Draco said levelly. "I was gathering ingredients for an alchemy experiment." He drew several plants out of his cloak. They looked like ingredients to Harry, but then again, he knew pretty much nothing about collecting raw ingredients or alchemy, so he was hardly the right person to ask.

"Why would you need those?" Hermione asked, leaning forward. Draco swept them back under his cloak before she could take a closer look.

"I told you," he snapped. "An alchemy experiment." Hermione opened her mouth, her eyes shining with frustration in that way that told Harry she wasn't about to drop it.

"How about we go to dinner?" Harry interrupted. "I'm starved."

"Me too," Ron agreed immediately, for not even he wanted to listen to a lecture from Hermione, even if it was directed toward Draco. Hermione narrowed her eyes at them but nodded reluctantly. Draco just sighed and followed. They barely got three steps into the castle before Draco was veering to the left. Harry caught his hand.

"Where are you going?" He asked.

"I'm busy, Harry," Draco answered, his head tilted away. Harry frowned at him, and he wondered vaguely when the last time he'd seen Draco at a meal was. It hadn't been yesterday. Maybe the day before... Merlin, he wondered when the last time he'd seen Draco outside of class and not studying his arse off at all was?

"Draco, you need to take a break," Harry said, and flinched as the bitter laugh hit him.

"I don't have time for a break," Draco answered, pulling his hand away with a gentleness that startled Harry. Before he could get a step away from them, however, Slughorn was right there.

"Harry!" he exclaimed, stopping right in front of them. "I was hoping to catch you before dinner. What do you say to supper in my rooms tonight instead? We're having a little party, me and…" Slughorn began listing several of his students who were well connected and were doubtless supposed to impress Harry. "And, of course, I very much hope Miss Granger and Mr. Malfoy will favor me by coming as well."

He bowed to them both, ignoring Ron completely, and beaming at Harry as if there was no possible way he could refuse. Draco wrinkled his nose, his grey eyes staring at Slughorn with obvious scorn that the man was somehow oblivious to.

"I can't come, professor," Harry told him. "I've got a detention with Professor Snape."

"Oh Dear, really!" Slughorn answered. "Well, now, I'll just-."

"I can't come either," Draco interrupted, and Harry got the feeling it was to get Slughorn to stop talking just as much as anything else.

"What?" Hermione asked, her eyes narrowing. "Why?"

"Because, Granger," Draco answered, his voice dangerously low. "As I've already told you, I'm busy."

"Nonsense, Draco," Hermione threw her chin up in the air, ignoring Draco's scandalized look completely. "You're coming with me tonight and that's final."

"What?"

"Just go with it, mate," Ron said, sounding much too amused. He put a hand on Draco's shoulder, only to pull it back again when Draco glared at him impressively.

"Well, I'll just be going to have a word with Severus about that detention then," Slughorn muttered, looking quite confused between the four of them now. "If you'll excuse me." He went waddling off, shaking his head as if he'd seen something horribly confusing. Harry supposed maybe he had; after all, it wasn't everyday Draco got convinced to do something he didn't want to by a muggleborn witch while Ron said something nice to him, much less willingly touched him.

"I didn't know you were invited to Slughorn's parties," Harry said, turning to Draco.

"Yes," he sighed. "I suppose he was impressed because of my brewing skills."

"What brewing skills?" Ron sneered.

"Well," Draco's lips twisted, leaving Harry to the conclusion that Draco was a much better sneerier than Ron could ever be. "I admit it's nothing to what Harry's been doing this year but then he has had Severus' old potion's book."

"What?" Hermione asked. "Snape's potion book? What do you mean?" Draco blinked at her, and then turned to look at Harry, who just shrugged at him.

"Oh, that's just _brilliant,_ Potter," he snapped, and Harry flinched when Draco popped him on the back of the head.

"Hey!" he said.

"Oi!" Ron yelled.

"You deserved that," Draco muttered darkly as Harry rubbed the back of his head. To Harry'y utter annoyed the git didn't look the least bit annoyed. "Just using a random book when you don't know who's written in it."

"It's just potion's instructions," Harry answered, and Draco's eyes widened as if he'd just blasphemed.

"Just…" he turned abruptly to Hermione. "Please explain to Harry why he's stupid, Granger. I find I haven't the patience."

"Hey," Harry muttered. He exchanged a confused look with Ron, who just shrugged, so at least he wasn't the only one completely confused. But no, Draco acted as if it was completely and utterly obviously. Which it obviously wasn't. Hermione just gave him a pitying look, which Harry thought was hardly fair.

"Harry," Hermione said, her teacher voice turned on. "What if one of the ways to brew potions was wrong or it told you to do something dangerous, and you did it?"

"So, what?" he answered. "Potions explode all the time in class."

"Yes, but what if the purpose _was_ to hurt you though," Draco said. "I know for a fact that some of the potions in that book are dark. Some of the spells too. What if you created something you didn't mean to? Severus wrote that book not meaning for anyone to get hurt, but not everyone is like that."

"Not all the spells are dark though," Harry answered, and Draco's eyes narrowed.

"What do you mean?" He asked. "Have you cast one?"

"I…" Harry hesitated. He didn't want to lie, and he shouldn't. Draco was just trying to help him, but he was also overreacting. The Prince's book wasn't near was dangerous as he seemed to think. Besides, how did he even know it was Snape's book to begin with. "No," he said finally.

"Good," Draco answered, visibly relaxing. "Don't. Like I said, Severus played with some dark stuff when he was school. Not everything in that book is just fine and dandy."

"How do you know that?" Ron asked, eyeing Draco suspiciously.

"Because not all of us hate Severus," Draco snapped. "Some of us, as appalling as it might seem have actually had a conversation with the man. Now," he started to step away from them. "If you'll excuse me, I really actually am busy," he shot Hermione a dark look.

"You _will_ come tonight though?" she asked, and he sighed.

"Granger-."

"Draco," she pleaded, her eyes going wide and soft. Harry stared at her; he wasn't sure he'd seen Hermione plead with anyone like that. Usually it was Ron and him pleading with her to help them with homework. For some reason, when Draco sighed again, his face softening, it sent a pang of jealousy through Harry. Draco almost never just gave into _Harry_ like that. "Don't make me go to another one of Slughorn's parties with just McLaggen for company."

"Ugh, fine, but you owe me," Draco told her. "Those parties are terrible." Then he looked over at Harry, his grey eyes softening just a fraction before he turned and was walking away from them. Harry hesitated, shoving his jealousy away and turning back to Hermione.

"What was that about?" Ron snapped, his eyes dangerously wide as he looked at Hermione. She blinked once, her brow furrowing.

"What do you mean?" She answered.

"I'll see you guys later," Harry told them, finding himself glad about an excuse to avoid their fight.

"Harry?" Hermione answered. "Where are you going? Your detention doesn't start until 8?"

He ignored her completely, choosing to chase after Draco. He tried to keep as close to him as he could without Draco being able to tell he was being followed. It was actually harder than it seemed; he didn't have his invisibility cloak and most of the other students had gone to lunch so he relied of the fact that Draco shouldn't be suspicious.

There were a couple of close calls, but every time Draco started to turn around, he had a telling tilt of his head that gave him away, and Harry was able to scramble back.

Eventually, Draco came to stop at the seventh-floor corridor where the room of requirement was. He paced back and forth three times before the door appeared. His face was a tight mask of determination and guilt as he pulled the door open and stepped inside. Harry hesitated before stepping around the corner, but when he tried the door, it was locked tight. Whatever Draco was hiding, he certainly didn't want anyone else to see it.

* * *

"Potter, really," Snape snapper for probably the fifth time in the past ten minutes. "Do _try_ and pay attention to what your doing. If I have to drag you to the infirmary, because you weren't paying attention on a _detention_ of all things, you will regret it."

"I'm sorry, professor," he answered, and Snape gave him an odd look. Harry hesitated, before setting the flobberworm down and facing Snape, who raised an eyebrow. "Can I go?"

" _Excuse me_?" Snape answered, apparently too stunned to even be rude.

"Professor," he bit his lip. If Draco ever found out about this, Harry was dead, but then if Harry didn't find out what was going on, they might all be dead anyway. He remembered how Draco was talking about Severus; they were obviously close. Draco cared about him; he just hoped Snape cared about Draco just as much. "I'm worried about Draco."

"And this is an excuse to skip a detention?" Snape sneered. "Get back to work, Potter."

"Surely you've seen how he's been acting," Harry insisted. "Sneaking around, hiding things. I have an opportunity to corner him tonight and figure out what's going on, but not if I'm stuck here."

Snape spent a long time staring at him, his top lip curling. Then he sighed, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose as if he couldn't stand to look at Harry any longer.

"Get out, Potter," he said. "And if I hear you've been telling tales, you'll regret it." Harry's eyes widened in shock, and he probably spent too long staring at Snape, because after a minute the professor opened his eyes and sneered. "Why are you still here? Would you like me to give you a weeks' worth of detentions, Potter, for gaping like a fool?"

"No!" He answered, scrambling to his feet and heading for the door. He paused with his hand on the knob. "Thank you, Professor."

Snape just grunted.


	28. Part 2: Chapter 8

_**Thank you all for your lovely reviews! This is a long chapter for you guys, not really sure how this happened, but here you go! :)**_

 _ **Warning: N/A**_

Chapter 8- To be Trapped

Blaise had cornered him in the common room-which Draco had been stupid enough to go into before heading to Slughorn's dinner-and asked where he was going.

He should have lied.

Blaise had then insisted on walking with him, babbling in his ear as they walked down the corridors. That was until they reached an abandoned section that almost no one traveled down. Blaise then stopped, turning to Draco with his face suddenly serious, and Draco was scowling before he could stop himself.

"What are you doing?" Blaise asked. "It's obvious you're up to something, disappearing all the time."

"I'm not _up_ to anything, Blaise," Draco snapped. "And even if I was, it would be better if you left it alone."

"I doubt that," Blaise scowled. "I know that look on you, Draco. Something's wrong; maybe I can help you."

"No one can help me," he answered, and Blaise frowned at him.

"Is this about your mother?" he leaned forward, putting a hand on Draco's shoulder. "Draco, there was nothing you could have done."

"That's not true," Draco shoved his hand away. "I could have stayed out of The Order. I could have just listened to my father and done what I was told."

"Like what? Worked for a madman?" Blaise's lip curled. "And your father was abusive and manipulative and-."

"My father never hit me-," Draco started and then clicked his mouth shut before he could say anything else. Blaise just raised an eyebrow at him, and Draco turned his face away, already feeling the humiliation burn on his cheeks. What was he doing defending the man who had tortured him, who had tried to control him his entire life?

"There are different kinds of abuse than physical, Draco," Blaise answered. And Draco hated how his voice had gone soft as if he was afraid Draco would suddenly break.

"I _know_ that."

"Do you?" he asked. "Because you don't seem like you do."

"Stop trying to analyze me," Draco glared at him, and Blaise finally held up his hands as if he was surrendering.

"Fine, I get it, it's not my place, but I do think you should talk to someone," he said. "And you do happen to have a very nice boyfriend who seems to to be more than willing."

"I…" Draco answered. "I can barely even _look_ at Harry without feeling guilty right now."

"Guilty?" Blaise frowned, and Draco knew he'd gone too far. There were certain things that Blaise didn't know about, didn't need to know about. "Why would you feel guilty? Because you didn't tell him about your mother being at my house?" Draco just turned his face away, and Blaise seemed to take this as an affirmation. "You'll tell him when you're ready, Draco."

"I know," he answered, shrugging Blaise off and continuing down the corridor. He could feel the frown against his back, but he knew there was no way Blaise could know about his mission. And Draco had to make sure it stayed that way. Blaise may have understood and supported him when he thought all that happened was The Dark Lord getting some kind of twisted revenge on Draco's family for what happened last years, but Blaise would turn his back in a second if he knew the truth.

* * *

They were some of the first to arrive, only McLaggen—a Gryffindor brute that Draco had heard Granger complain about often enough—was there before them. Blaise stood smoothly at his side as Slughorn bowed—not at all gracefully—to them and continued to chat with McLaggen. Longbottom was the next to arrive, and suddenly Blaise was all eyes, his head swiveling around and his eyes locking on Longbottom's face.

Draco snickered at him, and Blaise turned toward him just enough to glare. Longbottom came toward them, throwing McLaggen and Slughorn a nervous look before nodding to Blaise.

"I guess I'm early," Longbottom said.

"Nonsense," Blaise answered, his smile wide and charming. "You're right on time, everyone else if just late."

"Or maybe they just skipped," Draco said, wondering himself if he owed Granger a curse.

"Oh," Longbottom answered, his eyes flicking to Draco and then back to Blaise. "I almost didn't come."

"Why did you?" Blaise asked, his voice dropping at least an octave. The answer he wanted was clear enough, but poor Longbottom's face turned beat red, and Draco could practically see his brain short circuiting.

"I…uh, water," Longbottom said finally, which didn't make a whole lot of sense, but then the boy was a Gryffindor, and he hadn't been picked for his smarts. He turned away, moving rapidly toward the table of refreshments. To Draco's astonishment, he only tripped once too.

"You're going to break him, Blaise," Draco said once Longbottom was out of earshot. "Why don't you pick someone a little more durable to play with?"

"I like Neville," Blaise frowned at him before moving his gaze back over to Longbottom's form. "He's actually quite smart when he's not flustered."

"Is he even gay?"

"Please, Draco, what is gender when it comes to romance?" Blaise answered, and then left Draco frowning after him as he went to go assault Longbottom again.

Granger was there shortly after, followed closely by Malinda Bobbin, who Draco had seen but never spoken to. Hermione came directly to Draco's side and smiled up at him distractedly.

"Did I miss anything?" she asked.

"Blaise wooing Longbottom," he answered.

"What?" she blinked at him, before turning toward the two of them. Blaise was laughing now, Longbottom blushing and smiling while muttering some kind of apology. Draco was sure he was about to vomit somewhere. "Oh, yes, they've been like that every time."

"Really?" Draco answered. "And Blaise hasn't gotten bored yet?" Granger just shrugged. And then Slughorn was sighing, moving to the middle of the room. Most of the conversation petered out as he began talking, and Draco caught Blaise's dark look over Slughorn's shoulder.

"Well, there were supposed to be a couple more people coming, but I suppose engagements change," he let out a lofty breath. "Shall we eat?"

He gestured, and the everyone was starting toward the dinning table that was set up. Then the door opened again, and Draco found himself staring as Harry came in, his hair wild and his hands red and raw looking. His eyes found Draco and Granger immediately, and he started toward them only to be stopped by Slughorn.

"Harry, my boy! You made it!" Slughorn said, beaming rather obnoxiously. "I knew Severus could be talked around. You're just I time, we were just about to eat," he gestured wildly. "Sit, sit, everyone!"

They moved toward the table. Draco noticed McLaggen eyeing Granger and quickly steered her toward the opposite end of the table. Harry promptly sat in between them and Blaise on his other side. Longbottom was across from them. McLaggen and Bobbin were seated up near to Slughorn, who was still talking away about something or other. From the way Harry kept looking up, away, and nodding distractedly, Draco figured Slughorn was talking to him.

Their first course had just appeared on the table when the door opened again. Draco pinched the bridge of his nose, wondering if this bloody dinner was ever going to even start. Then the youngest Weasley, Ginny, stepped in, her eyes puffy and red. Harry stood abruptly, staring over at her with wide eyes, and Draco felt something flash low in his stomach at Harry's expression.

"Sorry, I'm late," Weasley said.

"Oh, it's no problem at all, my dear," Slughorn answered, eyeing her curiously. "Have a seat, have a seat, we've just started."

Weasley sat down next to Longbottom, right across from Harry, who was finally sitting down, but still hadn't looked away from her face. Draco kicked him under the table. Hard.

"Ouch," Harry jumped, turning his head to meet Draco's gaze. "Why did you do that?"

"Stop staring and eat your food, Potter," Draco hissed, and he hoped Potter had a nasty bruise on his shin. Harry looked over at Hermione, who—bless her—narrowed her eyes and frowned at him.

The dinner was as boring as Draco predicted it to be. The entire time he couldn't help but think his house elves could have made something so much better, but then he could hardly have blamed Slughorn for that. It was almost amusing the way Slughorn talked only to Harry, leaving the rest of them pretty much alone. Harry's annoyance and stuttering answers made it so much the better.

Draco _would_ have been inclined to help Harry out if he would stop looking at Weasley's face, over and over even after the bint's eyes had returned to normal. She was talking to Neville like a normal person and _still_ Harry stared. Draco told himself Harry was just concerned, the Weasleys were family to him. It made sense that when one showed up crying, he would be concerned, but that didn't stop the bitterness from creeping up his throat and choking him. He felt like kicking Harry again, but somehow managed to refrain. Barely.

When Slughorn finally noticed the time, he waved his hands and said he'd lost track as he always did when he invited people to have dinner with him. Draco wondered vaguely if he thought people didn't notice the he always did the same thing or if he just didn't care if he was considered predictable. Draco had stood as quickly as he could and almost ran from the room. Except that Malfoys didn't run away from things, even if they were annoying boys who stared at girls when they _should_ be staring at him.

Still though, somehow Harry caught him just outside the door, his grip tight on Draco's elbow. Draco was surprised Harry had even noticed Draco had left when he'd been so busy checking out Weasley.

"Draco, can we talk?" Harry asked.

"No," he snapped, and Harry blinked as if he had no idea what he'd done wrong. Draco sighed, forcing himself to relax. Knowing the idiot, he probably didn't have any idea. Draco was almost sure Harry didn't have a deceitful bone in his body, but that didn't mean being subjected to an afternoon of his staring at someone else wasn't... painful.

"Draco?" Harry asked, his green eyes wide and his grip tight on Draco's arm. Draco knew he was being unfair. But then, he didn't want to be fair. He was so _tired_ of keeping it together, and he just wanted to be jealous and petty and angry, even if it was for one minute. But then he would just feel guilty about it later. And he couldn't help thinking that maybe Harry _should_ just be with Weasley rather than Draco.

And wasn't it _Draco's_ fault that Harry was looking in her direction at all? Hadn't he been the one to pull away enough that Harry had time to look at someone else?

"Not tonight, Harry," he said. "I'm tired, and I'm angry, and I promise you whatever you want to say won't end well."

"But-."

"Please," Draco said, looking down to meet Harry gaze. Because he knew if Harry pushed him, either away or closer, his secrets would come spilling out before he could stop them. He was so tired of lying to Harry. He was so tired of pretending.

"I…" Harry hesitated, and then released him. "Ok, but we will talk."

"If you want to," Draco sighed, and then stepped away from him. It felt so final. He was always stepping away from Harry, never moving closer to him.

But then he couldn't. He just couldn't. He'd been the cause of his mother's lose of sanity; he couldn't be the reason Harry lost his life too.

* * *

Somehow, he managed to avoid Harry the rest of the week. It wasn't easy, but when Harry did catch him, Draco did his best to lead Harry toward as safe a topic as he could. It wasn't particularly difficult, Harry was having a normal—for him anyway—Hogwarts experience, including Quidditch, heaps of homework, his friends, and adoring girls. Of course he had things to talk about.

It wasn't his fault Draco had quit the Quidditch team, was neglecting his homework, had lost all his friends, and was ignored every adoring gaze but Harry's.

He got the feeling Harry knew he was avoiding talking to him, but he just didn't know how to approach Draco without starting a fight. Which Draco appreciated, Harry and him seemed to exist in a strange sort of balance since their last fight at Grimmauld Palace. He felt like he could breath on it wrong, and it would come tumbling down, never to return.

Granger talked to him often enough. Draco found when he was studying, it was because of her. She was smart, though he did wish she would stop quoting books and think a little more about what they could mean for herself. This was one of the reasons she had trouble with Slughorn's more complex potions, the textbooks didn't tell you everything—well, Harry's did, but he was cheating—you had to think beyond the book and piece together the theory. It was something even Draco needed to work on. When he'd mentioned it to her though, she'd just stared at him as if he'd lost his mind. He hadn't said anything since.

She was relaxing enough to be around most of the time. As long as they got their work done, she didn't nag him too much. And she didn't treat him as if he was evil like Weasley still did. He got the feeling Hermione knew something was going on with him, just like Harry did, but she never said anything, which was something Draco needed from her, and she gave it to him.

When the weekend of the Hogsmeade trip rolled around, Draco hadn't really been planning on going. He was busy; Merlin, he was always busy. But when Harry had mentioned it so casually and looked over at him with his green eyes smiling and warm, Draco had only been able to nod and smile thinly.

So, they were walking to Hogsmeade, Granger and Weasley just a little ahead of them, and Harry walking with more distance between their bodies than he would have put even just a month ago. And Draco had no one to blame but himself.

He couldn't help remembering Harry and Chang's date to Hogsmeade. He'd never heard exactly how that'd gone; apparently bad enough to decide Harry really didn't like her, or maybe that had just been the kiss under the mistletoe. Draco shook his head to get rid of those thoughts as they continued into Hogsmeade. He'd rather not think about Chang and Harry together, actually.

Zonko's joke shop was board up, which judging by Weasley and Harry's downturned faces wasn't good. For his part, Draco was relieved. At least now he wouldn't have to pretend to be interested in whatever thing Harry found there. Ever since this summer and his experience with The Dark Lord in his house, and his mother screaming, and- Draco shivered, and pulled his cloak tighter around himself. He had been less inclined toward joke shops and the items they sold.

Instead he found them heading toward Honeydukes, which was much more Draco's style. His love of chocolate hadn't been near as affected as his sense of humor over the summer.

"Thank Merlin," Weasley said as soon as they stepped into the warm air.

"Harry, m'boy!" Slughorn said. He wasted one glance at Draco, who just scowled at him. He was never sure just how Slughorn seemed so determined to ignore Draco's contempt. Maybe he just knew if he was rude to Draco, he would never win Harry over. Or maybe Draco's temper really meant so little to him. Draco honestly didn't know which he preferred.

Harry forced a smile at Slughorn but said nothing as the man approached. It was obvious from his body language that he hated the attention, but this too Slughorn either chose to ignore or didn't see completely. Weasley just scowled as he was ignored, and Hermione gave a small uncomfortable smile.

"I was so glad you could make it to my last little party!" Slughorn said. "I'm determined to have you again! How does Monday night sound?"

"I can't," Harry answered immediately, and Draco almost wished _he_ could sound that innocent when he was making excuses to avoid his Professors. "I have an appointed with Professor Dumbledore on Monday." Harry's eyes flicked toward him, and Draco felt… something pang deep through him.

"Goodness, Harry," Slughorn exclaimed. "Well, I'll just to have to catch you another time, then." He winked once, and then started waddling away, leaving the four of them to stare after him.

Draco wanted to ask if Harry _really_ had another lesson with Dumbledore. He wanted to get angry. He wanted to _be able_ to get angry. But he knew better than anyone, he had no right to be upset about being kept out of the loop of someone else's life. Harry shifted next to him as if he knew what was going through his head and was silently willing Draco not to ask. And no matter how much it hurt that Harry didn't seem to trust him anymore, it wasn't as if he didn't deserve it.

"I hate that man," he said instead. Harry blink once as if surprised by his statement.

"Why?" He asked.

"Why not?" Draco answered, and after a long minute of staring, Harry just shrugged.

They spent a long time in Honeydukes', Weasley and Harry looking at a bunch of different things while running around like children. Granger was calmer and more selective but seemed just as eager, stuffing things into her bag. It was intoxicating, the atmosphere of relaxation and fun. It was almost of if Draco could put down the weight he had been told to carry and act a child again. If only for a day.

He found himself put to distraction by Harry. More than once, he had to stop what he was doing to watch the way Harry laughed at something Weasley or Granger said. Or the way he snuck a piece of candy into his bag as if he really wasn't welcome to it. He found himself laughing when Harry sauntered over to him and made a joke.

Then Weasley was coming over and talking about Butterbeer, so they were finding Granger and buying their sweets before stepping out into the cold again. It was a shock after being in the warmth for so long, but when Harry reached down and laced their fingers together, Draco couldn't find it in himself to care.

They found a table at the Three Broomsticks easily, and Weasley and Hermione left the table to go order the Butterbeers.

"I've never seen you smile so much," Harry said, turning in his chair to face Draco. He just shrugged, his fingers playing idly over the rough wood of the table. There hadn't been much for him _to_ smile about, last year or this year. Harry's fingers suddenly caught the side of his cheek, and Draco started, finding himself looking into deep green eyes that seemed to read him better than anyone ever had before. "I wish you would talk to me," he said quietly, and Draco found a bitter smile on his lips before he'd meant to put it there.

"I know."

And then Weasley and Granger were back, carrying their Butterbeers, and Harry was letting go of both his face and his hand, and Draco was feeling horribly cold again though he knew the temperature in the Three Broomsticks hadn't changed.

* * *

Draco was in the bathroom, taking longer than probably strictly necessary, but he didn't want to come out. He didn't want to go back to Weasley's jokes and Hermione's concerned looks, and—the absolute worst—Harry's looks of longing.

The looks of longing that weren't even directed at him.

Weasley, the girl one, had sat down with her boyfriend, Dean Thomas, not long after they had, and Harry had reacted almost the same as he had when they'd been at the party. He'd started and then stared, and it had send Draco's belly boiling and bursting, and then as if all that was bad enough, he had felt guilty for being jealous.

He should be allowed to be jealous of his boyfriend.

He felt his hands grip the sink in front of him harder. If Harry was even his boyfriend at this point. They had never talked about it. The words had never been said. He was sure, the opposite had actually be said at one point.

"Upset your boytoy is staring someone else down, Malfoy?" The voice drifted up from behind him, and Draco found his hands tightening even further on the sink.

"Sod off, Nott," he answered, but the footsteps were only approaching.

"Well, that's not very nice, Malfoy," he answered, and he was suddenly right there, leaning against the sink right next to Draco's and smirking down at him.

"What do you want?" Draco said, straightening himself, and looking down his nose at Nott.

"I want some proof of your progress," Nott answered. "Our Lord is getting impatient."

" _Your_ Lord," Draco snapped. "He was never my anything." Suddenly, Nott's wand was out, pointing across the small distance between them and directly into Draco's face. Draco just stared at him; Nott couldn't kill him, he'd been ordered not to. But that didn't mean he couldn't hurt him.

"Be careful what you say, Draco," he sneered. "Your defiance already got your mother in trouble once."

"If your so much better than me, why doesn't Voldemort just use _you_ to get into the school," Draco answered, and was rewarded with a minute flinch, and then a tightening of Nott's wand hand.

"You've got some balls, Malfoy, I'll give you that," he said, and Draco just sneered at him. "And you already know the reason. You're the one Dumbledore trusts."

"It won't work," Draco told him, his lips twisting in a cold sneer. "Dumbledore's not stupid." Nott smiled, his teeth gleaming against the low lights of the bathroom. He was just opening his mouth to say something else when the door clicked open. His wand came down fast, tucking itself into his sleeve, and Draco swiveled to look toward the door.

"What's going on in here?" Harry asked, his green eyes flicking between Nott and Draco, glasses reflecting the light back.

"Nothing, Potter," Nott snapped, stalking past him. He made sure to bump Harry's shoulder on the way past before slamming the door behind him.

"Draco?" Harry asked, turning back with one raised eyebrow after watching Nott's retreat.

"It was nothing," he said, pulling away from the sinks, and making as if to leave. "Forget about it, Harry." Of course, Harry didn't accept that. He caught Draco's wrist as he went past, stopping his motion. Draco closed his eyes, hopping he would just let go, because he really just couldn't look at Harry and stand there and lie as if it was nothing when…

"You don't trust me," Harry's voice rang out, echoing in the cramped bathroom. And Draco felt as if the ground had dropped from below him. It was as if Harry had sucked the air from his lungs and refused him the right to breathe.

"Trust you?" He asked, and he even he had to admit that his voice sounded pathetic. How could Harry think Draco didn't- It wasn't that. It had never been about that. If it had been up to him, he would be on his knees spilling his secrets and begging Harry to forgive him. Malfoy pride be damned. But there were more important things that what made Draco happy.

"Yes, Draco," Harry answered, and though Draco still had his eyes closed, he could picture those green eyes, hurt and betrayal and anger blazing inside them. "You don't trust me. Otherwise you would tell me what's going on instead of sneaking off to Knockturn Alley," Draco flinched, eyes flying wide; Harry knew. "Ditching me to go to the room of requirement over and over," Harry continued, his voice chilling with every word he spoke as if had no idea how hard they were already hitting Draco. "You would tell me what happened to your mother."

And Draco staggered, feeling as Harry had slapped him across the face.

"I…You've been _following_ me?" Draco asked, his voice somewhere between an indignant squeak and a strangled yell, and he found himself wishing he had walked away when he'd had the chance.

"What else was I supposed to do?" Harry answered. "There's something going on that you're not telling me about! And frankly, it's making me-."

"Talk about trust," Draco answered, and he could feel it now. He could feel the numbness of shock dissipating and horrible realization of what Harry had been saying sinking in, in, in. He could feel the pain blossoming in his chest and the stinging behind his eyes, but he pushed it back as he continued to stare at Potter. He pushed it back and forced himself to consider the horrible possibility that maybe it was better this way.

"What?"

"You had no right to follow me," he said, grinding his teeth against the pain, against the acknowledgment that he might just be turning Harry away from him for good. He forced all his frustration to come out as anger instead, channeling it directly toward Harry in one dark wave. "You had no right to invade my privacy as if I'm some random deatheater and not your-," he cut himself off. "Whatever I am," and it was true, he had no idea what he was to Harry. And now, he might never know. "You have no idea what's going through my head, because you never bothered to ask," he swallowed and turned his face away. He had never bothered to tell Harry what he wanted. "You didn't ask, because you had already assumed the worst of me, perfect Potter so stuck in his own little world he can never consider other people's problems."

Harry was staring at him now, his eyes wide and green and full of something too close to remorse, but Draco couldn't stand to see it.

He turned his back on Harry, feeling raw and strangled and aching. He slammed the bathroom door on Potter's strangled shout; it sounded suspiciously like his name, but Draco wasn't listening anymore. He wasn't listening to anything but the howling of pain that was echoing inside him.

Because as much as it hurt to have the knowledge that Harry had never really seen him as anything more than a deatheater shoved in his face, it hurt more that he didn't deserve Harry's trust. It hurt more that it would be better for Harry if he just left Draco alone now. Because nothing good could come from the tangled mess Draco had gotten himself involved in.

He ignored Granger and Weasley's eyes on him, and dashed out the door, stopping only when he felt he was a safe enough distance away from the Three Broomsticks. He hated Voldemort for his demands. He hated himself for not being able to think of a way out. He hated Dumbledore for putting Draco in this position to begin with. And he hated himself for being weak enough to let it happen.


	29. Part 2: Chapter 9

_**Warning: text from original book**_

Chapter 9- To be Forgotten

Harry's lesson with Dumbledore had been more of the same as last time. Dumbledore had shown him a memory, his own this time, and given him cryptic explanations that Harry had yet to figure out. Voldemort had been a young boy living in an orphanage when Dumbledore had visited, and he'd been… interesting. Disturbing. It had been obvious he'd been using his powers, stealing, even bullying the other children there, but when Dumbledore had told him about magic, he had looked almost happy.

Harry didn't really know what to make of it, but then he had the vaguest of ideas he wasn't really supposed to. He half wanted to talk to Draco about everything he'd seen, but then since Draco hadn't gone with him, he'd have to reexplain the whole memory to him, and after the last conversation they'd had, Harry just couldn't bring himself to do it.

Dumbledore had asked where Draco was, raising an eyebrow, and murmuring, "alone this time, Harry?" so low Harry knew he disapproved. Harry hadn't exactly _meant_ not to bring Draco along, but he hadn't been there when Ginny delivered the note and then he had _never_ been there, and then they had fought and…

"Yes, sir," he'd hesitated. He wanted to tell someone, anyone his suspicions about Draco, and if he couldn't trust Dumbledore than he couldn't trust anyone.

Dumbledore had stared at him for a long time after he'd finished speaking, his face almost blank as he looked back at Harry. When he finally spoke, it wasn't what Harry thought he was going to say.

"I don't think you give Draco enough credit, Harry," he'd said.

"What?" Harry had answered.

"Draco is a very complicated person, dealing with much right now. You would do well to remember this." Dumbledore had said, looking over his half-moon spectacles, and Harry got the distinct impression that he knew much more than he was telling. "But what concerns me now, Harry, is our lesson."

He hadn't said anything else about it, and Harry hadn't asked.

He'd told Hermione and Ron about his lesson though, leaving out the part about Draco, and they had talked briefly about it before Herbology. Draco had been conspicuously missing from class, but then what else was new?

"I think its fascinating," Hermione said as they stepped out of the greenhouse, heading up the path toward the castle. "It makes absolute sense to know as much about Voldemort as possible. How else will you find out his weakness?"

"I guess," Harry frowned. "I just keep feeling like I'm missing something. Like there's some deeper meaning Dumbledore wants me to see."

"Have you talked to Draco about it?" she answered, and they both ignored the way Ron scowled at them. He really should have been used to it by now.

"I haven't talked to Draco since Hogsmeade."

"Wow," Ron whistled. "What'd he do? And how can I get him to do it again?" Hermione promptly smacked him on the arm.

"You're not helping," she snapped, and he just shrugged at her.

"It wasn't his fault," well it actually kind of was, but Harry wasn't going to tell _Ron_ that. He didn't exactly need anymore cannon fodder to throw at Draco. "I said something a shouldn't have." Even though what Harry said had been true.

He really believed Draco didn't trust him. Otherwise, Draco _would_ have told him what was going on; it was as simple as that. He'd had enough of being protected or whatever the Hell Draco thought he was doing. Harry frankly didn't care. He just wanted to _know._

He should have, however, said that he trusted Draco. That just because he was following him didn't mean he thought he was evil. Because while he thought something was going on, he really didn't believe Draco was back on Voldemort's side. Especially not after his talk with Dumbledore.

He just wanted to _know_.

"I think you should talk to him," Hermione said, which wasn't exactly new advice.

"How?" Harry snapped. "He's made it very clear he doesn't want to talk to me."

"Please, Draco's always like that," Hermione rolled her eyes. "He acts like he doesn't want to talk, but he actually does," she stopped abruptly, her hand falling on his arm and halting his forward motion. "You remember last year; just don't end up fight about some horrible misunderstanding again." Harry shifted uncomfortably under her arm. What exactly was he supposed to say to that? He couldn't make that promise. Not when Draco wouldn't listen to him, because really it was _him_ Hermione should be lecturing.

"Ugh," Ron groaned. "Can we _please_ talk about something besides Harry's relationship problems?" Harry looked over at him to see Ron's face was bright red with embarrassment. Probably he knew more about Draco than he'd ever wanted to. He smiled and started walking again. Ron had really taken to everything with Draco rather well, though he did have his moments.

But it wasn't as if Harry had expected Ron to change. That would have been absurd.

"Oh," Hermione said. "I almost forgot. Slughorn's have this Christmas Party, Harry, and there's no way you'll be able to wriggle out of this one because he actually asked me to check your free evenings."

"Merlin, he really doesn't give up, does he?" Harry muttered. They stepped into the castle, letting out a breath as the warm air encased them. Ron immediately swerved toward the Great Hall for lunch and Hermione and Harry were quick to follow.

"Yes, well," Hermione answered. "We're allowed to bring guests to this one, so maybe this is a good excuse to speak to Draco again."

"But wouldn't he already be invited?" Harry answered.

"Yes, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't ask him before someone else does," Hermione rolled her eyes as if it was the most obvious thing. "Or he asks someone else."

"Who, like _you_?" Ron snapped as he sat down at the Gryffindor bench. Harry was silent as he sat down beside him, leaving plenty of space for Hermione, who was staring at Ron as if he had a second head.

"What? Why would I ask Draco to Slughorn's Party?" Hermione asked. Ron turned around in his seat, an ugly sneer on his face as he turned to face Hermione.

"I…" Ron's face died down as soon as he saw the confusion written across Hermione's. "Never mind," he said sullenly. Harry kept his head down as Hermione took a careful seat. It had been easy to spot the jealousy leaking into Ron's voice, and maybe just because Harry had been there to see Hermione talking to Draco, to see Draco talking to Hermione, but he understood. In fact, he was jealous enough to have to remind himself that Hermione would never do that to him. Besides, he knew _Draco_ could never do that to him.

Even if they were having problems and Draco was disappearing more than he was actually around, he was still never… Harry wouldn't even entertain the idea. But still, that didn't mean he couldn't understand Ron's dilemma. Except of course, that he had yet to tell Hermione how he felt.

And Harry had firsthand experience that it was sometimes harder than it should have been.

"I was going to ask you," Hermione said softly. It had been such a long time since any of them had spoken that Harry almost wasn't sure what any of them were talking about. But from the way Ron looked up, his eyes locked on Hermione's with such a satisfied expression, Harry was sure Ron didn't share the sentiment.

"You were?" Ron asked.

"Yes," Hermione answered, and Harry resolved himself to being invisible for at least a week after they got together. He could deal with being invisible for a little while as long as they eventually remembered he was still there. He frowned a little to himself, he couldn't deal with them breaking up and never speaking to each other again, but hopefully that would never happen.

* * *

They'd just won their quidditch game against Slytherin, which was really no wonder, what with Draco off the team and some oaf playing chaser. Still Harry did have to play a stunt on Ron, making him think Harry had poured the Felix Felicity in his drink. He was still somewhat surprised that Hermione really thought he would do something like that. He wouldn't, if only because he was afraid of the look Draco would give him for wasting something as precious as Felix Felicity on a quidditch game.

Not that Draco was speaking to him.

In fact, Harry hadn't made any progress with Draco since the Hogsmeade trip and it had been nearly a week, but it was hard to talk to someone when they appeared to have no interest in even looking at you. And that was when they were _around_. Besides, the fact that every time he saw Draco it was like a pit opened up in the middle of his stomach, making him want to scream. What was he supposed to say? He wasn't sorry.

If he had the chance to do it again, he would probably do the same thing, except he would probably bring everything up when Draco wasn't feeling defensive, and with words that didn't make him jump down Harry's throat. But that still didn't solve the main problem that Harry _wasn't_ sorry that he'd followed Draco or snooped around. So, if Draco wouldn't tell him what was going on, what was he supposed to _say_ to him.

Harry sighed as he waded through the crowd in the Gryffindor common room. He'd seen neither Hermione or Ron since the ending of the match, and he was beginning to become rather tired of Romilda Vane trying to talk to him. Apparently there were rumors going around the school that Draco and he had broken up, leaving the impression that Romilda was free to stalk him all she liked.

He didn't really know what to think or say about the rumors. He didn't even know if they were true. Draco and him had never talked about breaking up, but then they had never actually talked about dating either, and _that_ had seemed to be true.

He stopped abruptly in front of Ginny, smiling when she did. He was vaguely surprised she wasn't in a corner somewhere lip-locked with Dean. He'd caught them snogging more than once. It had been a rather strange sight, catching him more off guard than he truly _wanted_ to admit.

Really, just Ginny had caught him off guard more than he wanted to admit this year. She was a good flier, smart, pretty even with her long red hair and sharp eyes. She reminded him of Cho in a strange kind of way. It wasn't that she was anything at all like Cho, they were complete opposites, but the the feeling he had when he was around her was the same. That he _could_ love her if he tried. In his mind, he knew Ginny was everything he wanted, funny, smart, and he was physically attracted to her, but when he looked at her, all he really saw was how she _wasn't_ Draco.

"Looking for Ron?" she asked, one side of her mouth lifting in a smirk. "He's over there, the filthy hypocrite."

Harry looked over where she was pointed and immediately looked away again. Ron was snogging in full view of the room with what looked to be Lavender Brown. Harry wondered vaguely just how _that_ had happened, then he decided he really would rather not know.

"It looks like he's eating her, doesn't it?" Ginny continued, sounding immensely bored with the whole affair, and Harry almost envied her; he wished he could not care who Ron was in a lip-lock with. "But I suppose he's got to refine his technique somehow. Good game, Harry."

"Oh, right, good game," he answered distractedly, and Ginny patted his arm as she passed him by.

Flicking his eyes once at Ron, who looked as if he'd be busy for _quite_ a while before looking around the room for Hermione again. Just as the portrait hole was opening, he managed to catch sight of bushy brown hair on the edge of his vision. He darted after Hermione, pushing open the portrait and stepping into the corridor. He was rather done with the celebration anyway.

When he managed to get out of the common room, the corridor was empty though Harry figured Hermione couldn't have gotten that far. He took a step forward and immediately heard the sounds of hushed conversations coming from just down the corridor, from a little cubby hole that Harry had seen several people shove themselves in to in order to have a quick snog. It was out of the way of prying eyes, and most people avoided it unless they _were_ going for a snog. He moved a little closer, curiosity driving him forward; surely Hermione hadn't stopped right outside the Gryffindor common room.

Harry stopped dead when he recognized the voices.

"Come now, the Weasel can't have done anything _that_ horrible," Draco's voice echoed from the space in front of Harry, and then he was sure he heard a sniffled laugh that sounded vaguely like Hermione.

"He was snogging her in full view of everyone," definitely Hermione's voice answered, her voice pitched with hurt and anger. "After he already agreed to go to Slughorn's Christmas Party with me." There was a beat of silence as Draco seemed to register what Hermione was saying.

"Why didn't you slap the bint?" he asked finally, and Harry was struck by the absolute _Draconess_ of the question. And it _hurt_ that he was barely 5 feet away, talking to _Hermione_ and not Harry. That Draco was shoved in a cubby where people stopped to snog with Hermione and not Harry. And he almost stepped forwards and shoved the two of them apart right then, but Hermione's next question stopped him.

"Would you have slapped Ginny if Harry snogged her?" Hermione's voice echoed back, and Harry couldn't stop himself from leaning forward, from wanting to know the answer. As much as it bothered him that it seemed to be in question that Harry could even _kiss_ Ginny when Draco was around.

"No," Draco said after a long moment, and before Harry even knew what he was doing, he was turning on his heel and running back to the common room, leaving Draco and Hermione to do whatever they wanted to their stupid bloody cubby together. Without him.

 ** _Goodness, don't hate me. They're not going to be at each other's throats for that much longer..._**


	30. Part 2: Chapter 10

_**Thank you for your reviews. I apologize for not getting anything posted last week!**_

 _ **Warning: N/A**_

Chapter 10- To be Acting

Draco didn't know what he was even doing—pacing outside the Gryffindor common room as if he _wanted_ someone to step outside and curse him. Probably that's exactly what he wanted. As long as it was Harry. As long as Harry looked at him again.

It seemed as if the last time Harry had looked at him had been when Draco was yelling at him. And that memory was eating Draco from the inside out, making it impossible to focus. He would picture Harry in class, while he was working on the cabinet, while Snape was interrogating him, while Dumbledore was talking to him, while Nott was taunting him.

It was becoming infuriating.

Needless to say, while the Gryffindor celebration was going on, Draco wasn't expecting anyone to come out of the common room. Which just made him that much more surprised when someone did. The portrait was opening when Draco wasn't really paying attention and then there was a bundle of bushy brown hair rushing toward him. There was a yelp—that most certainly didn't come from him—and they collided.

Draco looked down at his lap to find Hermione looking back up at him with wide tear rimmed brown eyes, and he sighed. As if he needed another problem on top of his own.

"Draco," she muttered, promptly climbing of off him. "What are you doing here?" He raised an eyebrow at her question; she was the smartest person he knew, there was no way she couldn't figure it out on her own. "Oh," she answered, sniffing and wiping her eyes.

Draco sighed again and grabbed Granger by the arm, dragging her out of the middle of the corridor, lest anyone else decide to leave the celebration, and pulling her into a small cubby off to the side. Hermione sniffed again, and Draco promptly handed her his handkerchief; it wasn't as if he could just _leave_ her there to cry.

Nor did he particularly want to.

"Do you just carry this around?" she asked.

"Yes," he blinked as she stared at him. "What?"

"Huh," she said, and then started to wipe away the stray tears.

"Come now, the Weasel can't have done anything _that_ horrible," Draco said finally. Weasley was, after all the only probable conclusion to why Hermione was crying. She seemed to have a strange soft stop for him; not that Draco understood her inclinations at all. Hermione gave a strange little hiccupping laugh, but to her credit didn't ask how he knew it was Weasley's fault.

"He was snogging her in full view of everyone," Hermione answered, and Draco had the decency not to ask who she was talking about. He supposed he would know tomorrow when the Weasel was attached at the lips with some other girl. "After he already agreed to go to Slughorn's Christmas Party with me."

He didn't really know what to tell her. It wasn't as if _Draco_ had the healthiest of relationships; not that this was what Hermione probably wanted to hear. He'd known Hermione asked the weasel to Slughorn's party. She'd been over the moon when it happened, but somehow that only made it that much worse when he turned around and decided she wasn't good enough for him. But Draco was sure Hermione didn't want him to tell her _that_ either. He settled for the next best thing, a bit of advice. Something maybe Pansy or Blaise would have said to him.

"Why didn't you slap the bint?" he asked.

"Would you have slapped Ginny if Harry snogged her?" Hermione answered, and Draco almost flinched at the image. Harry wrapped around her, his tongue inside her mouth, his hand in her hair-

He shied away from the image, somewhere between fury and heartbreak, determined to feel neither of and knowing he was doomed before he even started. Hermione was watching him with a pitying expression on her face, and he supposed he understood more of what she was feeling from watching Weasley snog someone else than he wanted to admit.

"No," Draco told her, and suddenly there was a loud shuffling behind them—feet against stone. They both turned, peeking out of the little cubby they were occupying but by the time Draco looked he only managed to catch the Gryffindor portrait closing behind a black and red cloak.

"They must have gone back when they heard us," Hermione said, and Draco just shrugged. "Come on," Hermione put her hand on the sleeve of his cloak and tugged, pulling him down the corridor and into an empty classroom. Draco watched as she closed and locked the door behind her.

"What are you going to do?" Draco asked her. "About the weasel?"

"Can you not call him that?" she answered, crossing the empty classroom to sit beside him.

"You should try it," Draco said. "It'll probably make you feel better." Hermione wasted three seconds glaring at him before she turned her face away and smiled, small and hesitant, but Draco knew he'd won.

"I don't know what I'm going to do about the…" she hesitated, and Draco raised an expectant eyebrow at her. "The Weasel," she said, and then she giggled. "This is ridiculous."

"No more so than him calling me ferret," Draco answered, and Hermione giggled again, this time louder and it made Draco raise an eyebrow and smile vaguely as she continued to laugh until she was doubled over and gasping for breath and looking over at him and realizing that she was making a spectacle of herself.

She tried to get herself under control, but it still took a couple more minute before she was able to do it, smiling hysterically at something Draco still didn't-and probably couldn't-understand.

"I'm sorry," she said, her breathing still uneven. "This whole thing is just ridiculous. How can we be having relationship problems when there's a war going on?"

And her words launched Draco back to the present, where he had bigger things to worry about than his own feelings and Hermione's love interest and Weasley's stupidity. But he didn't want to have to worry about those things.

"It's bad, isn't it?" Hermione said, snapped his gaze over to her.

"What?" Draco answered.

"What you're keeping from Harry," she said, and her voice was soft, her eyes serious now. "It's bad." Draco just looked away from her. "Ron thinks you're still working for Voldemort," she hesitated when Draco flinched, but eventually continued on, "but Harry and I aren't so sure. You seem too conflicted to just be a deatheater. I can't help thinking that I'm missing something, because it's obvious you're hiding something, but I couldn't see you ever hurting Harry."

"I love Harry," was the only answer Draco could think to say. And as true as it was, it felt so inadequate to everything that was going on. Hadn't _he_ been the one to say that sometimes love wasn't enough.

"Then why not tell him what's going on?" Hermione asked.

"He's better off without me," Draco answered, and turned his head when he felt Hermione's eyes on him.

"You don't really believe that, do you?"

"I didn't follow you here to talk about Harry," Draco answered, turning back toward her abruptly. "What are you going to do about Weasley?"

"I told you I don't know," Hermione scowled. "I'll have to do something to really annoy him. Maybe ask someone else to the Christmas Party."

"Why not ask me?" Draco asked. "That'll be sure to annoy him."

"Aren't you going with Harry?" Hermione answered.

"Does it _seem_ like I'm going with Harry," Draco snapped, and then sighed. "In case you hadn't noticed, Harry and I aren't exactly on speaking terms, besides, I think he'd much rather go with _Ginevra Weasley._ "

"I don't think Harry-."

"Look, however Harry may see Ginerva, it doesn't change the fact that I'm not going with him," Draco answered. "So, you may as well make Weasley as jealous as you can. Besides, this'll stop other people from bothering _me_ about a date."

Hermione frowned at him, but he just raised an eyebrow. She wasn't about to discover his ulterior motive. He had _too_ many ulterior motives for her to figure them out. For starters, he really didn't want Hermione to do something stupid and ask someone she would regret. But then he also didn't want himself to do something stupid and ask Harry, or have Harry ask him. This was the easiest was to steer clear of Harry, who would be too hurt that he'd gone with Hermione to come near him.

For another, it would put him at the party without anyone being surprised that he'd gone to Slughorn's party by himself, and he needed to go to Slughorn's party because he needed to be able to go down that corridor. And if he asked anyone else, they would hang off him, and he wouldn't be able to slip away, but Hermione would be too caught up in the party or Weasley or Harry to notice him slip away—he hoped.

"Alright," Hermione agreed, sounding about as reluctant as one could get. He smiled thinly at her, but made no other reply.

* * *

The days passed slowly after that. Harry was avoiding him, which shouldn't have seemed new but always did. Hermione was avoiding the Weasley as much as possible, which shouldn't annoy Draco, but did. And Weasley was snogging some girl everywhere he turned-who must have a mental defect-which should have disgusted Draco, and did.

Needless to say, with Hermione breathing down his neck, he didn't have much time to sneak off to the Room of Requirement or work on the vanishing cabinet, no matter how much he knew he needed to. He could feel Nott's beady eyes on his back, the incessant reminder that he was being watched, that he needed to be making progress. More than once, he woke up in a cold sweat to a dream half forgotten that had involved torture and pain.

Though he'd never been sure if it was his own or someone else's.

"Harry asked Luna to go with him," Hermione told him the day before Slughorn's Christmas Party. And Draco didn't know why she bothered to tell him, because, of course, he'd already heard.

"So?" he answered.

"Why didn't you just ask him?" she asked.

"Why didn't you ask Weasley?" he shot back, and she glared him. He looked away first.

"Well, for one Harry's not snogging the daylight out of someone else everywhere you turn."

"Only because she's already taken," he answered, and Hermione continued to glare, brown eyes narrowed dangerously. And Draco knew he was being petulant. He _knew._ But he was tired of thinking about this. Tired of Hermione staring at him and trying to understand what was going through his head. He was tired of thinking of Harry.

"You're being ridiculous," Hermione said, and Draco didn't bother to answer.

* * *

Draco and Hermione were probably one of the earliest to arrive, which didn't exactly surprise him considering how they were both hopelessly meticulous about time. However, that did mean they had to sit through Slughorn talking to them about his famous students this and his famous students that.

By the time, the next person Slughorn was willing to turn his attention to appeared, Draco was about to throw an hors d'oeuvre into his face.

"Thank Merlin for that," Draco muttered, and Hermione giggled behind her hand.

"Sometimes you're such a girl, Draco," she said, and he could only stare at her in horror at the very idea.

The room filled up quickly after, expanding enough to hold the occupants but not enough to stop the space from getting stuffy. Draco immediately recognized the charm Slughorn must have placed on his office. His father had used it a couple of different time while entertaining. Though his father would insisted, he'd use a much more effective version.

Of course, Harry only arrived once the room was full, tugging Luna Lovegood in after him as he was afraid she'd make a dash back out the door. Draco didn't really blame him, not would he blame Luna if she did decide to dash. They'd barely squeezed in the door before Slughorn grabbed Harry and dragged him out of Draco's line of sight.

"I saw that," Hermione said knowingly.

"Hmm," he answered, and then Blaise was suddenly there, swinging an arm around Draco's shoulders and throwing him off balance.

"Draco!" he called into Draco's ear, and he just managed to restrain the urge to punch Blaise in the jaw.

"Oh, Merlin, are you drunk?"

"Neville?" Hermione's voice sounded from beside him, and Draco managed to turn his head to see a bright red Longbottom standing just behind them. He was dressed to the nines, even his hair done as he stood looking rather uncomfortable, a small embarrassed smile on his face.

"You didn't," Draco said, turning back to Blaise, who simply smiled, winked, and released his shoulder. And then he was turning back to Longbottom, and they were disappearing back into the crowd.

"Now I'm going to have to start calling Longbottom by his first name," Draco complained, and Hermione stared at him for so long, he began to wonder if Blaise had gotten something on his face without him noticing. "What?"

"It's just… I hope Blaise isn't playing with Neville's feeling or anything?"

"I don't know," Draco answered. "Blaise is hardly ever serious about who he likes, but I've never seen him he interested in someone for this long."

"I guess that's something," she frowned.

"Hermione!" Draco stiffened as the voice came closer. " _Hermione_!" And Harry was suddenly right _there_.

"Harry," Hermione answered, her eyes flicking nervously to Draco. "There you are, we saw you get snapped up by Slughorn. Hi, Luna."

"Hello, Hermione, Draco," Luna said, smiling brightly at them.

"Hello," Draco murmured, his eyes on Harry while he tried to look anywhere by Harry.

"I didn't know you were coming together," Harry said, his green eyes narrowed toward Hermione.

"What?" Draco turned his own gaze on Hermione, wondering how she could have forgotten to mention that little tidbit to Harry.

And then Harry was turning toward him, his green eyes bright and full of barely concealed anger, and their eyes locked. It was only for a second, but it was second long enough. It was a second _too_ long. And Draco was lost. So utterly lost. And he should never have tried to pretend he wasn't.

Harry turned away first with a quick jerk of his head, which left Draco staring at his face like the love struck fool he was. Hermione nudged him, Draco managed to clear his throat, turning his face away.

"I need to use the restroom," he said. "I'll be back." He had no intention of coming back, but then he was sure from the sharp look on Hermione's face, she already knew that.

He turned, wading through the crowd of people hovering around Slughorn as he made his way to the door of the office. He stepped out into the hallway and breathed a sigh of relief, stepping to close the door behind him. Anyone who'd seen him leave would assume he was either going to the restroom or leaving for the night.

He paced away from Slughorn's office, heading in the direction of the Room of Requirement without really paying attention to where he was going. Unfortunately, he didn't make it barely around the next corner before Severus' voice stopped him.

"Leaving so soon, Draco," it asked, and Draco froze. "Is it wise to be wandering the halls on a night like this? If you were to be caught, Draco, Dumbledore-,"

"What do I care for Dumbledore?" Draco interrupted, turning to find Severus frowning at him, the usual sneer gone from his face.

"If you truly don't care what happens to Dumbledore," Severus answered, his eyes never changing expression, never leaving Draco's face. "Why are you taking so long to complete your task?"

"It's not as if it's _easy_ ," Draco snapped. Severus was silent for a long moment, his eyes never leaving Draco's, and Draco was suddenly sure Severus was trying to use Legilimency on him. Except that they both knew it wouldn't work.

"What are you doing?" Draco snapped.

"Potter suspects you," Severus told him, and Draco felt the telling stab as someone tried to enter his mind. Draco shoved Severus' consciousness out, baring his teeth and scowling.

"Of course he does! He's my… Well, of course, he does."

"You've told him nothing?" Severus asked.

"What would I tell him?" Draco answered, scowling and not bothering to hide the bitterness in his voice. At Severus, at Dumbledore, at Voldemort, at Harry. He just wanted Severus to leave him alone. "That I'm doing The Dark Lord's dirty work? What a fabulous way to keep The Boy Who lived as my boyfriend."

"Draco," Severus hissed, but Draco ignored him.

"Shall I tell him how I just _loved_ watching my mother tortured by aunt over the summer?"

"Enough," Severus said, but he was on a role now.

"Do I tell him that no one in your precious Order—including Dumbledore—did a bloody thing about it?"

"Keep you voice _down_ ," Severus snapped, and Draco's mouth finally clicked shut. "You know we must maintain our act."

"Yes," Draco muttered. "You must continue acting even if it means letting someone else die for your war. I never used to think Dumbledore believed that, but well…."

 _ **Alright, because I anticipate questions about this:**_

 _ **It's**_ **meant** _ **to be a little confusing. You're not meant to know what exactly Draco and Severus are talking about or what act they're putting on or even if it's the same act.**_

 _ **But the just of it is, Draco is bitter, because he is being forced to play a part he doesn't want to by people around him he thought he could trust.**_


	31. Part 2: Chapter 11

**_Hello, beautiful people! It's been a horribly long time and I apologize for that! Hopefully everything is back up and running again. Thank you for all of your reviews and support!_**

 _ **Also, I am**_ **more _than happy to answer any questions you may have about the story, whether they be positive or negative, but please leave a so I can address you personally!_**

 _ **Warning: Switched POVs**_

Chapter 11- To be Christmased

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, turning toward him in the low light of the common room. They were alone by now, even Ron having gone to sleep by then. Everyone was to leave for Christmas break in the morning, Harry and Ron were going to Grimmauld Palace and Hermione to her home.

"I told you," Harry answered. "Draco and Snape were-."

"But Draco mentioned the Dark Lord by name?" she interrupted.

"Yes, Snape even mentioned he'd been given a task that he wasn't getting done or something," he said, and Hermione frowned. "Don't you see, this proves something's going on. Something he doesn't want me or Dumbledore or the Order to know about."

"But Harry, we all already knew something was going on with Draco. We've known since school started, that doesn't mean he isn't doing something for the Order."

"Then why wouldn't he just tell me what it was," Harry answered, and Hermione was frowning at him now, her brown eyes narrowed on his face.

"You don't really think he would…"

"I- I don't know what to think, okay?" he answered. And he didn't. He didn't know what to make of Snape's and Draco's conversation. He didn't know if one—or both—were acting, playing at trying to get something from the other or if they were just talking about something he didn't understand. He didn't know if he wanted to know. "Right now, I just know that I can't trust him," he said, and Hermione sighed.

"We should probably go to bed."

"You don't have any advice?" he asked.

"I don't know, Harry. I think neither of us really want to believe he's working with Voldemort, but I also don't really know _what_ to think," her lips twisted thoughtfully. "I see the way he looks at you, and there's a reason you came to me instead of Ron, right? Maybe it's not as simple as you think?" Harry didn't exactly have an answer to that.

* * *

Draco was perched at the Slytherin table while everyone else lined up at the floo, waiting for their turn to head home. He had no plans to go home this Christmas. His mother was at Blaise's, his father in Azkaban, and he had no interest in hanging around with the house elf's waiting on him. Of course, Blaise had offered to let him go home with him, but Draco had declined. Even if he'd wanted to go—to see his mother and how she'd descended deep into insanity—he'd had more important things to do.

He felt Harry's eyes on him when he came in, boring into him, and Draco was turning to meet green eyes before he could really stop himself. Harry's flushed when their eyes met, turning his head away for half a second before looking back over. And Draco wondered if he was going to come over.

He did, whispering something to Weasley before slipping between the crowd and moving to standing awkwardly beside Draco. Draco never stopped looking over at him, having to tilt his head back to stare into his face, since he hadn't bother to stand.

"You're staying here?" Harry asked.

"I am," Draco answered, and they continued to stand. "The Weasley's are going to Grimmauld Palace, I suppose," he said, and it wasn't question, not really.

"Yeah."

"Well, try not to snog anyone," he said, and he meant it as a joke, or well, something, but he hadn't exactly had a sense of humor recently, and the words came out more as an accusation than a joke.

"Why would I snog anyone there?" Harry answered, finally turning to stare at him with narrowed green eyes.

"Nothing, never mind," Draco said, and Harry just sighed, already turning away. And Draco knew it was stupid; he knew he should just let Harry walk away, but he couldn't—not with that disappointed expression on his face. Not when he wouldn't see him for a month, and it hurt just thinking about how Harry would be around Ginevra for all that time, and he might just come back not thinking about Draco at all and-

"Harry," he stepped forward, catching him by the wrist. Harry stopped, turning his head just enough to stare at him with bright green eyes. "I…"

"Why can't you just tell me what's going on?" Harry frowned, looking more frustrated than really angry, and it wasn't as if Draco couldn't understand the feeling.

"I'm sorry," he let his hand drop, letting go of Harry's wrist. He flexed his hand as if that would make it feel better. "You don't know how much."

"Yeah," Harry answered, and then he was stepping away, pushing through the crowd and moving to stand back by Weasley. Draco watched him for a few minutes before he turned and left the Great Hall, heading up to the third floor, because he had more important things to do. He always had more important things to do.

* * *

It had been maybe a week since most everyone had left. Draco was heading back down to the dungeons, hoping he wouldn't run into Nott as he had yesterday. He had no idea why Nott had gone home like every other sane person at the castle, but he hadn't, choosing instead to bother Draco.

"Draco," the voice had echoed down the corridor, startling Draco more than he'd been willing to admit.

"What do you want now?" He'd asked, and Nott had smiled, that creepy kind of smile that made Draco never eager to trust him.

"Progress," Nott answered. "We want progress. And as far as I can tell, you're not doing anything about what Our Lord asked of you."

"I'm working on it."

"Prove it," he'd said. Nott had been hovering ever since, watching Draco with an expression that told him he'd better do _something_ before something bad happened. Something Draco wouldn't like. Nott wasn't about to be satisfied with, 'I'm working on it,' not anymore. It was frustrating, and Draco didn't _want_ to do it, but it was necessary.

He stepped into Severus' private rooms, catching Severus' eye for half a second before focusing on the steaming cauldron in the corner. It was a dark poisonous green, and Draco knew from experience it tasted just as horrible as it looked. One of the easier poisons to identify, fast acting, deadly, it had to be ready by now. He looked over to Severus.

"Is this the wisest course of action?" Severus asked, his voice betraying nothing. When Draco looked over at him, he hadn't even looked up from the papers strewn across his desk.

"You don't even know what I'm going to use it for," Draco answered, and Severus only grunted. Draco dipped a ladle into the poison and poured it into a test tube, quickly tucking the tube in his pocket and leaving the mess for Severus to clean up.

He didn't waste any time before heading to Slughorn's office, knocking twice to make sure he wasn't in the room before pulling out his wand. He unlocked the door with a flick and pushed it open, stepping inside and looking around. He knew that Slughorn had some mead bottle he was planning to give to Dumbledore as a present.

It was quick work to find the wrapped bottle of mead and tap it with his wand, creating a hole in the cork just big enough to pour the poison inside. He tapped it again and the hold sealed itself over. Of course, he was expecting someone to discover the poison—hoping for them to. But it would still cause an uproar, and that was the real point; Nott needed an uproar. He needed to be convinced that Draco was doing something, anything, because Draco didn't want to have to handle the consequences if Nott decided he wasn't doing enough.

* * *

Draco was early to his scheduled meeting with Dumbledore. He didn't exactly want to be sitting in the headmaster's office, letting Dumbledore stare at him for an overly long time, but he would have rather been there than in the Great Hall while the rest of the student body arrived. Him being there for Harry's departure hadn't exactly been his greatest idea, after all.

"I'm sure you've missed Harry," Dumbledore said, folding his hands over his lap and never taking his eyes of Draco.

"No," he answered, and they both knew it was a lie, but well, Draco didn't particularly feel like telling the truth about all that, and especially not to Dumbledore.

"And how has your project been going?"

"I'm not-," he started, but the door was opening behind him, and Dumbledore was standing. He closed his mouth as Harry stepped in, swinging the door shut behind him. He seemed surprised that Draco was there, which didn't surprise Draco. This far, Dumbledore had pretty much left it up to Harry whether to invite Draco along or not. He wasn't sure what about this time was different. Maybe he was just tired of watching them both mope around.

"Hello," he murmured awkwardly, moving across the room to sit beside Draco.

"I hear you met the Minister of Magic over Christmas?" Dumbledore said, twinkling blue eyes already moving over to Harry.

"I, uh," Harry's eyes flicked to Draco. "Yes."

"He wanted to speak to Draco as well, but well, Draco was unavailable."

"Not that I would have told him anything," Draco muttered.

"Yeah," Harry said, already turning toward him. "Why did you stay here?"

"Because I didn't have anywhere to go," which was part of the truth, but only part. And it was the only part of the truth that he was willing to tell. Harry just sighed and turned away.

"Now," Dumbledore said, interrupting whatever either of them would have said next. Which was probably best. "I believe we have a couple more memories to go through tonight."

"That can't be a true memory," Draco whispered, seconds after they'd dropped out of Slughorn's memory. He looked up, his eyes meeting Dumbledore's easily. "Slughorn tampered with it, didn't he?"

"He did indeed."

"Why would he do that?" Harry answered.

"Because, I think, he is ashamed of what he remembers," Dumbledore answered, and Draco supposed he could understand something like that, but it was still the wrong way. He wondered how many lives Slughorn had cost because of the information he'd given, how many he continued to cost because of his incapability with fessing up to what he'd done.

"How are we supposed to get the memory from him?" Draco asked, and Harry looked startled, but there was only one real reason Dumbledore was telling them this.

"I do believe if anyone should be able to, it would be you," Dumbledore answered, but he was looking distinctly at Harry, and Draco knew he was only there to make sure Harry didn't do something overly stupid. Which he supposed was fair; it wasn't as if Slughorn particularly liked him. "so, good luck… and good night," Dumbledore said.

Draco stood, already heading to the door at the dismissal, but Harry hesitated. He had one hand on the armrest of his chair, his eyes locked on Dumbledore as Draco stood by the door.

"Could I speak to you for a minute, sir?" he asked. His eyes flicked to Draco, and he got the message. He stepped through the door, shutting it behind him with a click. And he wondered what Harry was saying to Dumbledore, though he knew it could only be about him.

But that didn't exactly answer the specific question of what exactly they were saying. But then again, Draco got the feeling he didn't really want to _know,_ no matter how much he might _wonder._

 ** _To Revello, if you're still reading._**

 ** _I agree, there probably should have been more conflict regarding the past years of bulling on Draco's part. However, I do think the issue_ is _addressed throughout the first part of the story. It causes much of the conflict between Harry and Draco and it a big reason why Harry doesn't trust him. It's also the reason Ron refused to accept Draco._** ** _Also, Draco is a much different person than he ever pretended to be in the past. This makes it hard for Harry to treat him the exact same as he did in their previous years._**

 ** _However, you are correct. A lot of that is subtext. If you have in more comments or concerns, please reach out! :)_**


	32. Part 2: Chapter 12

_**Thank you for the wonderful reviews!**_

 _ **Warning: text from original book**_

Chapter 12- To be Poisoned

"Sir, I just thought there might be a bit more to the memory," Harry said, trying to salvage the rapidly tipping conversation.

"Did you?" Slughorn looked down at him, his pudgy belly wobbling as he moved abruptly. "Well, you were wrong, weren't you? WRONG!"

He bellowed the last word, practically throwing Harry out of his classroom before he could so much as think up an apology. He stared at the closed door, figuring he wouldn't be getting another chance at Slughorn for quite some time after that colossal screw up.

"Really well done there," Harry sighed as the voice echoed toward him. "Seriously, Harry, brilliant."

"Yes, thank you, Draco, I needed that."

"Well, evidently, or you would never have tried to question Slughorn like that," Draco answered. Harry sighed again before turning to look at the Slytherin. Draco was leaning on the wall across the Potions door, one eyebrow raised and a wide smirk on his face.

And for the first time in a long time, he looked genuinely amused. Of course, it was at Harry's expense, but it was still enough to stop Harry in his tracks. It was enough to make him look again and remember that Draco hadn't always been the moody boy who acted as if spending time with Harry was a chore. There was a time when he'd smiled and teased Harry, and they'd been good together.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Draco straightened abruptly, his smile evaporating into a suspicious scowl. And just as suddenly as Harry's Draco had appeared, the Draco from the last few months was back.

"Nothing," Harry answered. "Where's Hermione and Ron?" he asked, just realizing that only Draco had waited for him.

"I suspect they're both upset by your use of the bezoar in class today instead of actually brewing an antidote," Draco answered, and from the way Draco's lips twisted, Harry could tell he was actually rather upset too.

"Well, I had to butter Slughorn up for-."

"Or you just didn't want to do the work," Draco interrupted. "After all, brewing an antidote correctly wouldn't have impressed him at all, now would it?" He started walking down the hall before Harry could respond. He scrambled after him, annoyed and determined that Draco Malfoy was not about to have the last word about something as stupid as what Harry had done in potion's class.

"Well, Slughorn seemed to like it!"

"You could stand on your head and sing and Slughorn would like it," Draco answered, to which Harry didn't really have an answer to. He probably could, after all.

"Why did you wait for me?" he asked. "Just to tell me what an idiot I am?"

"Look, Dumbledore told both of us about Slughorn," Draco said. "Don't you think that means you need to be a little smarter than just straight out asking him?"

"I don't need your help," Harry snapped, and he didn't mean for it to come out the way it did. He didn't mean for the snap in his voice or even really the meaning behind his words. He was tired of dealing with Draco's 'I want you,'s turning into, 'I don't want you,' before he could keep up, and he wanted to know what was going on, but he knew better than to ask. And that _bothered_ him.

And he was still stinging for Dumbledore brushing off his concerns about Draco yet again. He'd acted as if Harry was just being paranoid, stepping out of his line of influence. And Harry would have been inclined to believe him, except he _knew_ Draco was hiding something. He knew something was going on that he didn't know about. And he was tired of being kept in the dark.

Still, he didn't mean to hurt Draco, though Draco obviously took it that way. Draco turned his head away, and he just managed to catch the flash of pain and shame in his eyes that Harry had gotten too used to over the past few months.

"Draco-," he tried, but he'd already turned down a different corridor, his back to Harry and nothing Harry would say could matter anymore.

* * *

Harry was seething. He was beyond angry, and maybe it wasn't fair to point fingers before he really knew all of the facts, but he _knew_ who had poisoned Ron. He _knew._

"Maybe the poison wasn't meant for Ron at all," Fred said. "Maybe it was meant for Harry, and Ron just got the wrong glass."

"Why would Slughorn want to poison Harry?" Ginny answered, and Fred shrugged.

"Or maybe Slughorn's innocent and the poison was meant for Slughorn himself?" Ginny suggested.

"Who'd want to kill Slughorn," George answered, his face contorting as if he couldn't imagine someone going through all that effort on Slughorn.

"But Harry also said the bottle was supposed to be a gift to Dumbledore, so maybe it was meant for him," Ginny said.

"Then the poisoner obviously didn't know Slughorn very well," Hermione said, sounding stuffy and tired and worse than Harry was feeling. "Or they would have known there was a good chance Slughorn would have kept something like that for himself."

Harry felt as if he was on the urge of snapping at all of them. How could they not see? How could they not put two and two together? He raised his head from looking down at Ron's still form on the infirmary bed and met Hermione's gaze. She stared at him for a long minute, and he could suddenly tell that she, at least, understood what he was thinking.

"I'm think going to go," Harry said, standing abruptly. Everyone stared at him, but he just turned his head as he headed for the door.

He had someone to talk to.

Harry headed for the exit of the infirmary, closing the doors soundly behind him. He only got a few steps away though before Hagrid was standing before him, muddy, dripping wet, and looking as if he'd just come straight for the Forbidden Forest.

"Harry!" Hagrid exclaimed. "I jus' heard abou' Ron. How is he?"

"Not too bad. They say he'll be okay."

"It's terrible," Hagrid grumbled, as they stood awkwardly in the corridor. "All this new security, an' kids still gettin' hurt. I mean, yer expect accidents, don' yeh, with hundreds of underage wizards locked up tergether, but attempted murder, that's diff'rent. 'S'no wonder Dumbledore's angry with Sn-," Hagrid froze, cutting himself off and staring down at Harry with his 'I shouldn't have said that' face.

"What? Has Snape done something?" Harry answered quickly, and the beating of his heart was so loud he wondered if Hagrid could hear it. Maybe he'd been wrong. Maybe…

"Well—I jus' heard Snape sayin'—I shouldn'ta heard this at all!" he said abruptly interrupting himself, but Harry just continued to stare at him until he continued. "Snape was sayin' Dumbledore took too much fer granted, an' then Malfoy was-."

"Malfoy?" Harry said. "Draco was there too?"

"I never said tha'," Hagrid answered quickly, though he'd quickly gone from guilty to panicked.

"What did Draco say, Hagrid?" Harry insisted.

"Snape and him were both just complainin' abou' Dumbledore bein' on their cases abou' somethin'."

"About what, though?"

"I dunno, Harry, it jus' sounded like they were feelin' a bit overworked. You know how it is, especially with Malfoy in the order now, and everythin'."

"But what-," Harry started, but he was interrupted by McGonagall stepping around the corner.

"Potter?" she said. "Don't you have class? What are you doing standing in the middle of the corridor?"

And Hagrid was excusing himself before Harry could say anything else. He threw an annoyed glance after him, but he knew he wasn't about to get anymore information out of Hagrid about what he's heard. But still, what had Snape, Draco, and Dumbledore been rowing about.

Was Dumbledore on Draco's case about keeping secrets? But then why had he shoved Harry's concerns aside as if they didn't matter? It didn't make sense.

He let McGonagall usher him down the hall, heading for the Gryffindor common door and feeling his anger and frustration bubbling up inside him.

* * *

The rest of the day was normal. Or as normal as Harry's day could have been with Ron in the infirmary, Hermione looking as if she was about to start crying, and Draco casting him nervous looks every few minutes—because Harry needed more confirmation about who had poisoned Slughorn's mead. And every time Draco looked at him, only to turn away when Harry even shifted, a pang of fiery anger ran straight through him.

He lasted until dinner, stewing over what Hagrid had told him and telling himself that he must have gotten it wrong. Then he'd caught Draco looking at him again, guilty silver-gray eyes locked on Harry's face, and he'd snapped. He'd glared back and felt a horrible kind of satisfaction when Draco paled, turning his head away with a flinch. He sat at the Slytherin table for another minute or so before finally just getting up and leaving the Great Hall completely.

Harry, of course, had followed him.

They made it halfway to the dungeons before Draco stopped, standing in the middle of an abandoned corridor with his back to Harry. Up until then Harry was beginning to wonder if Draco even knew he was there, much less willing to acknowledge his presence. But still, Draco didn't turn to look at him; he just spoke quietly as if he were talking to the opposite wall.

"Are you going to yell at me?" Draco asked, his voice low and void of emotions. Harry's hand itched to reach for his wand, to curse Draco, to do anything that would make Draco feel something, _anything._ "I suppose I would deserve it if you did."

"You fucking cunt," Harry snapped, and his hands were on Draco before he really processed what he was doing. He yanked him around, getting in Draco's face. "You deserve it? Yeah, you fucking deserve it! Merlin, I hope it was worth it? Whatever the fuck you were trying to accomplish by poisoning my _best friend?"_

"I didn't know-," Draco started, and then gasped when Harry slammed his back into wall, head bowing just enough that his hair covered his face, and Harry could no longer see his expression. Which was just as well, because if he saw the same disconnected uncaring expression that was mirrored on Draco's face, he might punch him.

"So, what? Slughorn annoyed you so much you figured you would just take him out of the picture?" Harry asked. "Well, in case it's escaped your notice we need him! Beside the face that you can't just _kill_ people. Merlin, Draco that's what deatheater's do," Harry said, and Draco flinched, though he made no move to get away from Harry.

"I wasn't trying to-."

"What?" Harry snapped, bringing Draco forward and then slamming him back again. Draco cried out but still made no move to get away. "You weren't trying to what? Because Ron almost died, Draco? He almost died, and you don't even seem to _care_."

"What do you want me to say?" Draco answered, his voice so low Harry almost missed it. "What _can_ I say?" And when he raised his head, just a fraction, just enough for Harry to see his face, he looked wrecked. His eyes were rimmed red, gaze locked on Harry with a shocked, guilty, relieved expression that Harry _didn't_ understand. His cheeks were pale—gaunt, deep bags under his eyes, his hair a mess, and it took Harry much too long to realize that Draco was crying.

Draco was crying.

He'd only seen Draco cry once before. Only known Draco to cry at all twice before. Both had been because of him, because Draco had thought Harry was either dead or leaving him. And seeing Draco—impervious Draco Malfoy, who'd held Harry and acted like the world wasn't falling apart when it clearly was—cry sent Harry into a spiral of confusion and panic he didn't know how to get out of.

"Draco…" he murmured.

"I'm _sorry_ ," Draco answered, and Harry's first instinct was to snap at him. To tell him sorry wasn't enough, to say Draco had a lot to _be_ sorry for, and just because that was what he thought Harry wanted to hear, didn't mean it would all be okay. But when Harry look up to meet Draco's silver-gray eyes, he—couldn't.

He remembered asking Draco to tell him what was going on, right before break, demanding, being furious when all Draco had said was that he was sorry. That Harry didn't know how much. He'd brushed Draco aside and went to Ron. He wondered if Draco had looked at him then the same way he was looking at him now.

Harry remembered thinking—way back last year, when they'd been stuck in Grimmauld Palace for Christmas—that Draco _never_ apologized. He never said he was sorry for anything.

And yet, here he was, looking at Harry with his silver-gray eyes wide and tired and desperate. And before Harry really knew it, he wasn't angry anymore. He just felt… empty. Empty and sad and wishing that Draco would just talk to him, because maybe then they could just work it out.

Because there was no way they were meant to end like this.

"I know," he whispered, and he didn't know if Draco heard him or not, but his head bowed, and his shoulders slumped, and he almost collapsed against Harry as if he couldn't hold himself up anymore.

 _ **Thank goodness we've finally gotten here. I've been waiting for this chapter since the beginning of this stupid part. Good news, it's (mostly) all uphill from here! Bad news, they gots some pieces to be picking up.**_

 ** _To Caramel Cutie,_**

 ** _I'm really not sure if the last chapter being sick is a good or a bad thing. Either way, thank you for your review! And either way, yes, it was kind of sick and it was meant to be. Draco isn't exactly in the best place right now, unfortunately._**


	33. Part 2: Chapter 13

_**Thanks for all the wonderful reviews. So sorry for taking so long on this update.**_

 _ **Warning: N/A**_

Chapter 13- To be Hurt

"You don't have to stay here," Harry said again. He was dressed in his Quidditch gear, hovering at the open door of the empty classroom while Draco sat perched on one of the desks. He knew Harry was already late for his match, hanging around to talk to Draco. He also knew Harry was more worried about what Draco would _do_ than Draco himself.

He hated that Harry had every right to be.

"I'm not going to the match, Harry," Draco answered.

"Alright," Harry said, looking Draco over one last time before he turned toward the door.

"Good luck," Draco called, and Harry hesitated with his hand on the door, looking back at Draco with a furrowed brow and sad green eyes.

"Thank you," he said, and then he was gone, the door snapping shut behind him.

Draco waiting about five minutes before he left the room after Harry, heading down the opposite corridor and up the stairs until he hit the seventh floor. He paced three times before the door to the room of requirement opened, letting him into the maze that he'd grown to hate over this past year.

The vanishing cabinet was in the same place it always was. It looked better than it had at the beginning of the year, repaired at least partway though still not enough. It was a frustrating task; every step he took forward, it was like he had to take two back. It was almost as if the cabinet didn't want to be repaired. Even though he'd been in contact with Borgin, it didn't seem to make a different.

He opened the cabinet, his hands sliding over the smooth wood with a sigh. If he was being honest with himself, it was probably his own fault he couldn't get the cabinet to work. He was afraid of what would happen when he did. As bad as things were now, they were nothing compared to how bad things would get when he'd managed to get the cabinet up and running. Still, he was running out of time. His poison trick wouldn't hold Nott at bay for long.

He experimented for a long time, loosing track of time as he tried the newest couple of spells Borgin had recommended before testing the cabinet out again, and then again, and then again. He knew he was close, so close to repairing the magic that clung to the wood, but nothing he did quite managed stitch whatever had caused the tear in the enchantment to repair itself.

When he was done, he could tell the sun was setting. Harry's Quidditch match must have ended by now, and Draco felt a cold twist in his stomach at the thought that he hadn't been there to see Harry win. He supposed, he should have been hoping Gryffindor lost, but well, he knew better than to bet against Harry by now.

Then again, he really shouldn't have been surprised when he stepped into the corridor and ran into the two Weasley twins. The one on the left frowned at him while the one on the right scowled at him, and Draco was left wondering how he could get away.

"What are you doing here?" Weasley One asked.

"Walking…?"

"So, you're not on your way to visit Harry, then?" Weasley Two asked.

"What?"

"Which would be a bad idea, seeing as he's already got all the company he needs…" Weasley One answered.

"…and he doesn't need you."

"I think that's Harry's choice," Draco snapped, raising his chin before he could stop himself.

"Well, seeing as he's unconscious-."

"-I don't think he's going to be deciding anything any time soon," Weasley One said, his eyes rolling as if Draco was an idiot. Draco stared at them, beginning to feel worried. Unconscious. Why was Harry unconscious? …. Right after a Quidditch match.

Shit.

Draco took off down the corridor before the Weasley's could say anything else. He heard one of them call after him but ignored them as he took off down the stairs, heading for the infirmary. He supposed, he should have known better than to expect Harry not to have something happen to him during a Quidditch game. Really, he must be approaching some kind of record.

Sure, enough when he reached the infirmary, Ron Weasley was slouched in his infirmary bed, and Draco tried not to think that he'd been the cause of it. While Ginny Weasley, and Hermione were hovering over another bed that must have held an unconscious Potter if the tuft of Black hair was anything to go by.

Everyone looked up at him when he walked in, Weasley frowning at him from his bed with his usual hostility, leaving Draco slightly surprised. Harry must not have told him, which left Draco with a bitter taste in his mouth. Hermione and the other Weasley both scowled at him but said nothing as he approached Harry's bed.

"What are you doing here?" Ginny Weasley asked, her voice snapping as he stopped to look down at Harry. He didn't bother to look up at her. Really, the more important question was why _she_ was here, not him. It wasn't as if she and Harry were… Or at least, last he'd checked she and Harry hadn't been…

"Malfoy," Hermione said, and Draco couldn't stop himself from looking up at the cold tone of her voice. And he suddenly knew that while Weasley may not know he was responsible for the poison, Hermione did.

He supposed he owed more than just Harry an apology.

"What happened?" he asked, avoiding both Weasley's question, and Hermione's unspoken one.

"You'd know if you'd _been_ there," Ginny Weasley snapped.

"As if being looked after by a half wit she-weasel was better," he snapped, and suddenly she was standing, getting in his face, and it wasn't like he had a response to her, but he couldn't exactly let _her_ see that. He was a Malfoy after all.

"Better then being alone? Gee, let me think."

"Why don't you ask him?" Draco hissed. "I'm sure he'd be the first to tell you-."

"Or maybe he'd tell _you_ -."

"Both of you stop," Hermione suddenly interrupted. Draco started, looking over at her in surprised before he could help himself. She looked… wrecked. About as bad as Draco felt. She stared at him for a long minute, her eyes more hurt then angry, and he immediately remembered that both of her best friends had ended up in the infirmary within 24 hours.

"We should get going," Hermione sighed after a long uncomfortable minute of silence. "It's almost curfew anyway."

Draco supposed the She-Weasley nodded. He didn't know, didn't look. But in the next couple of seconds, both she and Hermione were shuffling out of the infirmary, leaving Draco, Weasley, and Harry alone. Harry didn't particularly look terrible. Instead, he just looked as if he was sleeping, breathing lightly in and out, his forehead creased as if he were thinking hard. Draco could see his glasses on the bedside table, his hands resting beside his torso on the covers. Whatever had happened to him had hopefully already been healed.

"McLaggen was being an idiot apparently," Weasley said, and when Draco looked over at him, he was frowning, his eyes dark with something close to understanding. "Harry took a Bludger to the head. Pomfrey said he'd cracked his skull, though it was an easy heal."

"Oh," Draco answered. And in that moment, he couldn't help but be grateful that even though Weasley didn't know, he understood. He figured he would never like him, but he could at least stop hating him. "Thank you."

"Yeah, whatever," Weasley said, facing the ceiling with a huff. Draco shifted, moving beside Harry's bed and sitting in the now empty seat there. The silence that followed was somehow easy, less uncomfortable than he was expecting it to be. Well, until Weasley spoke again.

"Why is Hermione angry with you?" he asked. "I thought you guys were… you know."

"It's funny how every time she talks about you and Lavender Brown, she gets that same expression on her face," Draco answered, not even bothering to look over at him.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Weasley snapped. There was a pause and then: "She does?" And Draco tried not to laugh, he really did, but he just couldn't help himself.

"She only went with me to Slughorn's party to make you jealous," Draco said. "Not that I suppose you noticed while you were so busy snogging Brown to high heaven."

"Hey!" Weasley answered. "You're one to talk. It's not like your relationship with Harry is the most straightforward in the world. Compared to you, Hermione and I should get an award."

And Draco supposed he should have found that offensive because really this was a Weasley not only insulting him but Harry also. But the whole thing was ridiculous. And suddenly he was laughing. Laughing so hard he couldn't stop himself, and it felt so good after days of not even remembering how to smile.

"Merlin," he gasped. "What am I _doing?"_ He knew Weasley was staring at him like he was crazy, and he probably was, but he couldn't stop, and maybe he didn't want to.

"I'm Draco Malfoy, talking to Weasley, who I'm pretty sure hates me," and he knew it shouldn't have been funny, but it somehow _was._ "I've joined the Order of the Phoenix, Merlin, the bloody Order! As if I was some do gooder, who hadn't been raised to hate _everyone_ ," he turned to look at Weasley, and was surprised when he was smiling, biting his lips as if to keep from laughing himself. "I'm in love with Harry Potter, the savior of the Wizarding World, who's sitting in the infirmary _again_. And I'm just sitting here worrying about my relationship!"

"Don't forget the part about taking advice from me," Ron answered. "As if I have any idea what I'm doing."

"Or as if we're not in the middle of a war."

"Or like I might or might not hate you for going to Slughorn's party with Hermione."

"Or as if my boyfriend might or might not like your sister," Draco said. And they were both laughing hysterically now, bent over and probably looking completely insane, but at the moment that didn't matter. It didn't even matter that it was Ron in the bed beside him.

"What are you laughing about?" the voice sounded from the bed in front of Draco, and both he and Weasley both stopped laughing abruptly, turning to stare at Harry with wide eyes. He was sitting up, blinking blearily at them. Draco picked up his glasses from the bedside table, handing them to him without taking his eyes off Harry's face.

"Nothing," Weasley said quickly, casting Draco a strange look, somewhere between weirded-out and confused; Draco could understand the sentiment.

"Okay," Harry answered, frowning at them, while adjusting his glasses.

"Good, you're up," Pomfrey said, suddenly appearing from inside her office to shove Harry back down onto the pillows.

"What happened?" Harry frowned up at her.

"Cracked skull. I mended it as soon as you came in," Pomfrey said briskly before her eyes turned to Draco and they had that stubborn gleam that he'd come to understand meant he wouldn't be able to argue with her. "Visiting hours are over, Mr. Malfoy, best be back before curfew. You won't miss anything; I'll be keeping Mr. Potter overnight just in case."

"Alright," he sighed, looking down at Harry one last time before he stood, and he felt Harry's green eyes on his back all the way out the door.

* * *

"I'm tell you Snape's old journal isn't going to help you!" Hermione snapped. Draco sighed, finally putting down his quill to look up at them while Weasley studiously ignored the scene enfolding in front of him, scribbling away on the potions essay that the rest of them had already finished.

They were studying in the library. Draco making himself take a break from the cabinet for fear of failing his classes. Though at this point, he wondered if he should even be concerned about anything passed this year. It wasn't as if he had a good chance of surviving all things considered.

Hermione was already in a bad mood because of both Ron and Draco. He could tell she was trying not to be mad at the two of them, but when coupled with Harry flipping with a single minded concentration through Severus' old potion's book, she was losing what little patience she had left.

"I'm looking for something different," Harry answered, not bothering to look up from his book. "Maybe there's a potion or a spell…"

"Harry," Draco sighed. "Dumbledore said if anyone could get the memory, it was us. It's got to be something we specifically can do." Harry, however, just looked even more frustrated, biting his lip and flipping another page angrily.

Draco understood why Harry was suddenly so desperate. They'd head their latest meeting with Dumbledore last night. He'd had told them about how the Dark Lord had found Helga Hufflepuff's cup and Salazar Slytherin's Locket. He'd told them about how the Dark Lord had killed the woman who had once owned the two items.

It had been an unusually solemn night. Draco could tell Harry was uncomfortable with not only Draco being there but also because he hadn't gotten the memory from Slughorn as Dumbledore had asked him to. And Draco understood that Harry didn't like disappointing Dumbledore but throwing himself blindly into the task wasn't going to do anything either.

"Ron, that's not how you spell Belligerent," Hermione said suddenly, sounded exasperated as she pulled his essay toward her. "And I'm pretty sure this is supposed to be about dementors not Dugbogs, nor is your name Roonil Wazlib," she said, and Ron was leaning over her shoulder, looking down at his essay with a slightly horrified expression.

"Let me help you," Draco told Harry, ignoring Hermione and Ron completely.

"Don't worry; I can fix it," Hermione soothed, pulling out her wand to tap the paper. And Harry stared at Draco for a long minute before he spoke.

"Can I trust you?" Harry asked, one eyebrow raised as Harry looked up at him through his eyelashes. And Draco knew he had no right to be hurt by Harry's question. He had no right to hate the way Harry was looking at him, beautiful green eyes on his face asking something Draco desperately wished he knew the answer to.

"I never meant to hurt you," Draco answered quietly.

"I love you, Hermione," Ron groaned, and both he and Harry turned to stare at him. Hermione was flushed pink, her eyes locked on Ron's paper. And Draco couldn't stop himself from looking over at Harry, locking eyes with him and feeling as if for just a minute, they were on the same page.

"Don't let Lavender hear you say that," Hermione answered, and the moment broke. Harry ducked his head, flipping another page in his book, and Draco sighed, picking up his quill to scribble something—anything down on his paper.

 ** _Can we believe part 2 is almost over? Maybe 4 or 5 more parts tops. :)_**


	34. Part 2: Chapter 14

_**Thank you for all the wonderful reviews!**_

 _ **Warning: Text from original book, some smut**_

Chapter 14- To be Remembered

"For Merlin's sake, Weasley, just break up with the girl already,'" Draco snapped, sighing loudly as Ron ducked behind Hermione to hide behind an approaching group of girls. Hermione looked reproachfully at Draco, somewhere between wanting to scold him for speaking to Ron and being too annoyed herself to do it.

"You don't know what it's like," Ron snapped back. "I don't suppose you've ever chucked a girl, have you?"

"I have actually," Draco answered, raising his chin in that haughty way he only every used on Ron anymore, and Harry was sighing, rubbing his forehead before he could stop himself. "Several in fact."

"Pansy Parkinson doesn't count," Ron said, and Draco's lip was curling in response, his mouth opening in answer with something Harry was sure none of them _really_ wanted to hear.

"Will you two quit," Hermione interrupted; Draco glared at Ron for a second more before turning to Harry with a determined expression.

"I've thought of something."

"I sure hope you think _sometimes_ ," Ron muttered. Everyone ignored him.

"What?" Harry blinked, and Draco rolled his eyes as if Harry was being particularly dense.

"With Slughorn; I've thought of something to get the memory."

"O-kay?"

"You need to get him alone-," Draco started, his grey eyes intense on Harry's face as he spoke.

"How am I supposed to do that?" Harry interrupted. "He's avoiding me entirely now. He's not even throwing any more parties."

"Shut up, Harry, and let me finish," Draco snapped. "Now, I know for a fact that Slughorn is going to be down at the vegetable patch tonight, harvesting ingredients with Professor sprout for his classes next week."

"How do you know that?" Hermione asked, her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Because instead of talking all through Herbology, like some people, I listen," Draco rolled his eyes. "She was apparently quite proud that her harvest had turned out well enough that Slughorn wanted to use it for himself."

"But it's not like we can just show up," Hermione argued.

"We can," Draco answered. "I asked Professor sprout if she wouldn't mind the help, and she said, 'not at all,' so we should be fine, unless Slughorn runs off at the sight of Harry."

"But how does this help?" Harry asked, feeling as if Slughorn running off was a very real possibility. "Even if Slughorn and Sprout are there, that doesn't mean he'll talk to me."

"I don't know, Harry," Draco sighed. "You'll have to think of something to get him to listen. Use what you know about him to your own advantage."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you know Slughorn is ashamed of what his memory is. You know he liked your mom, and you know he likes to be seen as the good guy—the one other people can look up to; idolize," Draco said. "If you ask me, there must be some way to convince him he looks better by giving you the memory than by not."

* * *

They stopped a little before the greenhouse, Harry feeling the nervousness buzz through his veins. He wondered vaguely if he would have another chance to speak to Slughorn if he messed this up or if this would be his last chance. Draco stood at his shoulder, his head turned a little to the side to lock his silver-grey eyes on Harry in the setting sun. Harry didn't know what he was thinking, wasn't sure he'd know for a long time now.

"Good thing we have permission to be out after curfew this time," Hermione said, looking up at the streaks of orange in the sky.

"Yeah," Ron grumbled. "Picking vegetables. Yay."

"Shut up," Hermione scolded. "This is important," and then she led the way forward, Ron following her with an indignant sound in the back of his throat. Harry swallowed, and he knew he must have looked nervous if the way Draco was looking at him was anything to go by.

"Harry-," Draco started, one hand extended as if he would touch Harry.

"Let's do this," he said, already walking after Hermione and Ron and felt Draco start to follow him a minute later.

Slughorn and Sprout were already working, and though neither seemed surprised to see them, Slughorn looked infinitely warier when he spotted Harry. Especially, when Harry and Draco went almost right next to him and started harvesting to little green leaves as Sprout instructed them.

"Didn't your mother used to grow these, Harry?" Draco asked suddenly, bending down to run his hand over a leave.

"Wha-," Harry started, staring at him, because obviously Draco had just lost his mind.

"You told me she wrote about it in her journal," Draco interrupted, casting him a significant look.

"I…" he blinked, his eyebrows furrowing in confusing, but Slughorn was staring at them, and he was sure now wasn't the time to point out that Draco must be talking about his _other_ boyfriend's mother's journal, because Harry was sure Lily Evans never kept a journal. "Yeah…"

"She apparently mentioned you a lot, too, Professor," Draco said, leaning over a plant to look at Slughorn, which was strange, because Draco _hated_ Slughorn and-. "She really admired you," Draco's eyes flicked back to Harry, silver and insistent and almost annoyed now. That look he got on his face when Harry was being particularly stupid.

And the pieces clicked together in an instant, Draco's earlier words echoing in his mind. _You know he liked your mom…. he likes to be seen as the good guy—the one to idolize…. there must be some way to convince him he looks better by giving you the memory..._ Draco was trying to help him, and Harry _was_ being an idiot.

"Right," Harry said abruptly, making Slughorn turn to him with a startled expression. But he didn't turn away; if anything could keep Slughorn focused on Harry, it was talking about Lily. "She thought you were a… you know, a good guy." Draco promptly stepped on his foot. "I mean, she really looked up to you, sir," Harry corrected, feeling a little insane, but he supposed he was doing alright if the blush and pleased expression that lit up Slughorn's face was anything to go by. "She mentioned how brave you could be. How honest."

"Well, I don't know about that…" Slughorn muttered, looking horribly pleased with himself as he turned to the plants in front of him. "She was always a good one… so funny. She was the brave one," and his expression was suddenly sober as if he'd just remembered that Harry's mother was dead, that they were talking about a dead woman, who none of them would ever talk to again.

"Did you ever hear how she died?" Harry asked quietly. He had no idea what prompted him to say something like that. It wasn't something he liked to talk about, much less remember. And felt rather than saw Draco's eyes on him, and Slughorn's startled and entranced look as he continued. "She could have lived; he told her to get out of the way, to run. Dad was already dead, and she didn't want to let me go, and she was pleading…"

"That's enough!" Slughorn burst out, turning back toward his plants with a horrified expression, and Harry was just beginning to see the tears in his eyes. He was just beginning to realize that Slughorn was just as human as he was.

"I think about her all the time," Harry insisted, and Slughorn made a strange sniffing sound in the back of his throat.

"It was the most horrible…" he said, his voice trailing off as he stared at his plants.

"She thought you were brave, Professor," Draco said, his voice barely a whisper, but it was enough to make Slughorn jump.

"What?"

"Don't dishonor her memory by proving her wrong," Draco insisted. "Help Harry; help us," and Slughorn was staring at them, his eyes full of something so close to pain Harry wanted to look away, but he knew he couldn't, not when he could tell Slughorn was so close.

"It's not that simple," Slughorn said finally. "It's not… This memory… I'm ashamed of what…"

"But you can make it right by helping us now," Harry said. "You'll help more people than you've hurt."

And Slughorn was trembling when he nodded, when he reached up with his wand, his other hand reaching into his pocket to pull out the empty vial. He slipped the memory inside, before handing it to Harry with trembling fingers and turning away. He didn't look back as he bustled out of the vegetable garden.

"Horace?" Professor Sprout called, looking after Slughorn as he ran out. She turned to Harry and Draco with a startled expression. "Is he leaving? What happened?"

"Uh..." Harry said eloquently. Naturally Draco came to his rescue.

"He said he'd forgotten about a potion he was brewing. It sounded pretty urgent."

"Oh!" Sprout answered, looking put out. "Oh, well, I suppose we'll just have to continue this another time."

And Draco was shooing Harry out of the garden, Hermione and Ron following after them, looking somewhere between excited and apprehensive. Hermione didn't say anything until they were halfway back up to the castle, well away from the vegetable garden and far away from where Professor Sprout could hear them. The sun was setting behind them and Harry figured it must be getting pretty close to curfew.

"Did you get it?"

"Yeah… Yeah, we did."

"That's great!" Hermione said, and then paused when she saw the look on Harry's face. "Isn't it?"

"Yeah, I mean. It is… I just wish Dumbledore was here now. That I didn't have to wait to tell him."

They walked in silence for several minutes, and then Draco stopped abruptly. And Harry stopped with him, looking over at him with what he knew to be an expectant expression. Draco blinked at him, grey eyes dark in the low light of the castle, and it suddenly occurred to Harry that Draco had no reason to go the same place as Harry, Hermione, and Ron. He didn't exactly live in the Gryffindor tower with.

"We'll just go up," Hermione said, her face pinched in that way it was when he was doing something she didn't really approve of but she knew he would do it anyway. Harry appreciated the effort; he knew she was trying. He knew she was still angry at Draco for what he'd done to Ron, but they both knew he'd had a reason, even if they didn't know what it was.

"But-," Ron frowned, blinking at them as if he was missing something important.

"Just don't get in trouble," Hermione said, grabbing Ron by the arm and dragging him away. And Draco watched them go, his head turned resolutely away in a way that Harry was getting tired of getting used to.

"Thanks," he said, and Draco's grey eyes flicked toward him, his head barely turning. Whatever he saw in Harry's face must have surprised him though, because he didn't look away again.

"You would have figured it out without me."

"Maybe," Harry answered, and Draco shifted uncomfortably, still staring.

"I miss you," Draco said, and Harry sucked in a breath, feeling the words tingle through him because they were so true. He missed Draco teasing him; he missed the way Draco looked at him; he missed the moments in-between where Draco would touch him; he even missed Draco insulting him.

He remembered Draco saying that love wasn't enough but looking into Draco's silver-grey eyes now and knowing how very in love he was with him, he wondered if love wasn't enough, then what was.

"Draco…" he stepped forward, and he didn't know who closed the distance, who grabbed who, or who kissed who, but suddenly he was shoved against the wall, Draco's hand in his hair, hand hard on his shoulder, nails digging in almost painfully, and Draco's tongue was in his mouth, licking across his bottom lip and then across his gums before stroking across Harry's own tongue.

And it felt horribly wonderful. With Draco's body pressed so hard against his, Harry's back flat against the wall, and he could feel Draco's erection pressed against his thigh, and someone was moaning, and he had no idea if it was him or Draco anymore, and it _didn't_ matter.

"Draco," he gasped out, Draco's mouth leaving his to lick and suck and bite his way down Harry's neck, and Harry was gasping in ragged breaths as Draco's hands ducked down, shoving his robes aside and reaching into his pants. His hand wrapped around Harry's cock, tight and confident and sure, and Harry's head fell back against the wall, gasping out a loud moan that sounded a lot like Draco's name.

And Draco was shoving his robe fully aside, his mouth licking across Harry's chest, an inch from one of his nipples, his hand shifting down from Harry's shoulder to hold his hips steady, and Harry's knees were shaking so bad, he knew if Draco leaned away from him, even a little, he'd fall.

Draco rutted against him, his hand keeping up a harsh rhythm on Harry's cock as they chased their release against each other, and it felt so _right._ It felt right in a way it hadn't before. In a way, Harry wondered if Draco felt too. In a way, he knew he couldn't regret.

Harry came first, a startled groan leaving his mouth as he came in Draco's hand. Draco stroked him through it, his head falling onto Harry's shoulder with loud erotic panting that Harry had never heard from him before. When Harry was done, he barely had to reach down and palm at Draco's crotch before he was coming against Harry's thigh, barely touched, his head turned in Harry's neck with his lips pressed to Harry's skin in a delicate touch.

When Draco finally shifted, Harry was expecting him to close off and leave like he usually did, but that didn't happen. Draco barely pulled away, his wand hand flicking. Harry felt the cum dry off him and his robes shift until they were less of a ruffled heap, but Draco still didn't move away. He only shifted his weight off Harry just enough to stop crushing him, but he didn't even pull his head out of Harry's neck.

"Draco…" Harry whispered, reaching on hand up and brushing his hand through Draco's hair.

"I'm sorry, Harry," Draco groaned, his eyes closing, and he sounded almost in pain.

"Draco-."

"You have to understand, Harry, that I never wanted…" his voice trailed off, and Harry realized with a shock his neck was wet. That Draco was blinking rapidly against him, sucking in a loud breaths as he held onto Harry's robes. "He said… he wanted me to… it was the only way to protect you, to protect my mother-."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Harry interrupted, putting his hand against Draco's shoulders and pushing. Draco lifted his head and looked Harry in the eyes. And Harry was startled by how open Draco's expression was, by just how wrecked Draco looked.

"I-."

"What's going on here?" they jumped at the voice, Draco pulling away from him as if he'd been burned, turning, ducking his head, and rubbing his face. Harry looked over, his face feeling as if it was on fire as Nearly Headless Nick hovered near them, looking surprised and suspicious.

"We… uh…We were just…" Harry blinked at him.

"Well, best be off to your dorms," Nick frowned at them. "Don't want to be taken off to Dumbledore for being out after hours."

"Dumbledore's not here," Draco said, and though his voice was rough, he sounded surprisingly normal. He _looked_ surprisingly normal. Not at all like he'd just been crying.

"He is here," Nick answered. "Professor Dumbledore returned to the school an hour ago."

"What?" Harry asked. "Where is he?"

"In his office, I believe," Nick answered, looking a little puzzled as Harry exchanged a look with Draco, and they took off toward Dumbledore's off, both of them forgetting how completely ridiculous they looked.


	35. Part 2: Chapter 15

_**Thank you for all the wonderful reviews!**_

 _ **Warning: text from original book**_

Chapter 15- To be Successful

"Got to?" Dumbledore asked, leaning forward and staring at Harry over the top of his desk. "Of course you've got to try and kill him! But not because of the prophesy!" They'd almost run to Dumbledore's office after getting Slughorn's memory, and though he'd seemed surprised, he'd welcomed them in. They'd watched Slughorn's memory of Tom Riddle's question about Horcruxes. Draco had listened as Slughorn had talked about splitting a soul through murder and death, and now he knew just how the Dark Lord had survived the rebounded Avada Kadavra curse the night Harry's parents had been killed.

And now Draco felt sick.

"Because you, yourself, will never rest until you've tried! We both know it!" Dumbledore continued, and he looked so intense, so persistent. "Imagine, please, just for a moment that you had never heard that prophesy! How would you feel about Voldemort now? Think!" After they'd seen the memory, they'd talked as they always did. Except this time, Harry asked how he was to defeat the Dark Lord and Dumbledore had said love. And they had started talking about the prophesy that had started it all. Except Dumbledore was insisting that while it had started everything, it didn't _mean_ anything.

And Draco was resisting the urge to throw up on the carpet, because he knew exactly where the conversation was going to end.

"I'd want him finished," Harry said, his voice quiet compared to the pounding in Draco's ears, and it was a wonder he could hear it at all. "And I'd want to do it." And Draco couldn't stand it anymore. He stood, turning his back on both Harry and Dumbledore and bowing his head as if they would make them stop.

Because of course, Harry would want to be the one to take on the world when he might die in the process.

Of course you would!" Dumbledore said, echoing Draco's thoughts. "The Prophesy doesn't mean you _have_ to do anything! You are free to choose your own way, quite free to turn your back on the prophesy!" There was a pause and then. "But Voldemort continues to set store by the prophesy, and he will continue to haunt you… which makes it certain really, that-."

"One of us is going to kill the other," Harry finished, his voice horribly level. As if he wasn't ripping everything Draco had done to protect him apart.

As if Draco wasn't past sick now. Perhaps numb, or perhaps he was in shock by now.

Because he had been right all along. Whether there was a prophesy or not, Harry Potter always had to run straight into the middle of danger. He had to sacrifice himself to defeat the bad guy as if there was no one else who could possibly do it. It was never about the prophesy; it was about how Harry couldn't walk away from doing what he thought was right. He was brave and selfless, and he loved with everything he was.

And Draco hated him for it.

* * *

Draco was on his way to the room of requirement when Blaise ambushed him. He wasn't even subtle about it, coming up behind Draco and talking loudly as if he knew Draco didn't want to see him and he just didn't care. Really, as a Slytherin, Draco was embarrassed for him.

"Where _have_ you been, Draco?" Blaise asked. "I feel like I've barely seen you recently."

"Well, it's not like I'm welcome in the common room," he answered, continuing on his way. Perhaps if he ignored Blaise, he'd go away.

"Hmm. No, I don't think so," he answered, all white teeth as he smiled. "Nice try though."

"Don't you have a Gryffindor to bother?" Draco asked, and Blaise actually laughed. Yes, the guy was definitely spending too much time around Gryffindor's.

"Don't you?" he answered. "Where is Potter by the way?"

"I don't know. I hardly have a Potter tracker."

"Aw, the two of you are fighting," Blaise said. It as more of a statement than a question with just enough mocking that Draco was gridding his teeth.

"Seriously, Blaise," Draco snapped. "Go bother Longbottom. He actually likes you."

"Come on, Draco," Blaise answered, still looking unphased. "Don't be like that, I come bearing gifts," he reached into his robe, pulling out a carefully sealed and addressed letter and holding it out to Draco. And Draco only needed to stare at it for a second to know that the writing was his mother's.

"She…" he trailed off, staring but unable to take it. The last he'd heard she hadn't been able to put a coherent thought together long enough to address a letter, much less write one.

"My mother said she's been recovering these past few weeks," Blaise answered, his dark eyes sparkling with kindness and joy. "She's been asking for you."

"I…" Draco took the letter from him, somewhere between horrified by the shaking of his hand and ecstatic that maybe his mother's mind wasn't lost after all. "Thank you…"

"Hey, thank my mother, not me."

"Right."

"Now you just need to fix your Potter problems," Blaise said, looking much too pleased with himself. Really, it was embarrassing. Draco wasted a whole minute staring at him before he turned his back and walked away, still clutching his mother's letter between his fingers. "You're not fighting because Ginny Weasley and Dean Thomas broke up, are you? Because that would be-."

"Wait," Draco interrupted. "The she-weasel broke up with Thomas?"

"You didn't know?" Blaise blinked and then went right back to smirking widely. "Well, that's embarrassing."

"Blaise-."

"Malfoy," the voice sounded from almost right behind them, and even Blaise jumped, because Theodore Nott was _right_ there, staring at Draco with that look in his eyes that meant he'd come to threaten him.

And Draco didn't have anything up his sleeve. He was so close to finishing the wardrobe. So close, but that wouldn't help him _now,_ because he'd been lying to Nott about being close for months, and he couldn't afford another stunt like the one he'd pulled before. The last one had almost _killed_ Weasley and Hermione still wasn't talking to him.

"Nott," he answered.

"What do you want?" Blaise asked, and while his smirk was still in place, handsome and arrogant, all traces of playfulness were gone from his face as he looked at Nott.

"Zabini," Nott's eyes flicked to him, his own smile cold and aristocratic. "I hear you've had a visitor in your house this year."

"What-?"

"It's such a pity Mrs. Malfoy is in such bad shape, isn't it, Draco?" And he looked back at Draco, the threat clear in his voice, in his eyes, and it was horrifying in a completely new way.

Because Nott had never threatened his mother with Blaise _right_ there. And Draco had never held definitive proof in his hands that his mother might recover before. And Blaise had never turned toward him with a half-puzzled, half-horrified expression as if he was putting together what was going. And-

"Draco!" And it shouldn't have felt _so_ calming to hear that voice, but it did. It felt too good to have Harry come running up, glaring over at Nott with Hermione right behind him as if they knew exactly what was going on even though Draco was sure they had no idea. "Everything ok here?" asked, one hand falling to cover Draco's, and he just realized that he'd been clenching it into a fist.

"Fine," Nott answered, smirking down at Harry. "Draco and I were just having a friendly chat, weren't we, Draco?"

"Friendly, right," Draco said, which Nott seemed to take as confirmation since he nodded and turned away, trailing down the hall as if nothing had happened.

"What the bloody hell, Draco?" Blaise asked, again with no subtly. "Why was he threatening your mother?"

"He was threatening your mother?" Harry asked, and he had that look in his eyes that he got when he wasn't about to let something go.

"Nott is an arse," Draco answered. "He was just-."

"No, he wasn't," Blaise frowned. "From the minute he came up, you looked like you'd seen a ghost. What kind of trouble are you in?"

"I really don't know what you're talking about, Blaise," he said, and he tried to turn away. He really tried, but Blaise was suddenly there, grabbing him by the arm and yanking his robes up to get a look at his forearm. Right where his dark mark was.

If he had one.

Harry inhaled sharply, his fingers tracing over the deep scar Bellatrix had carved into his arm. And Draco wanted to pull away, but he was stuck looking at the pained expression on Harry's face and feeling numb. He'd avoided looking at the thing, thinking about it for too long now. It was like dousing his arm in boiling water just as it was beginning not to burn anymore. And he was beginning to be very tired of the hurt.

"Draco…" Harry muttered, and Hermione was covering her mouth, looking at him with wide eyes, and Draco wished there was somewhere he could go hide, because he had never meant for them to see this.

"You need to tell us what's going on," Blaise said, his eyes dark and set.

And it wasn't that he didn't want to. He wanted to let it out so much it hurt. But Dumbledore's words from their last meeting echoed through his head, making it impossible. Harry was already in so much danger just from being himself. His fingers tightened over the letter between his fingers. Besides, his mother was just recovering; he couldn't put her back in the Dark Lord's power.

He just... He remembered telling Harry at the end of last year that he wasn't brave, that he was selfish. And looking into his bright green eyes, he wished he was brave enough to make the choice Harry wanted him to make.

"I can't."

"Draco, this isn't…" Hermione said, staring at him with something too close to pity. And he could tell she wasn't angry with him anymore. He supposed seeing the reason he had been scared enough to poison her boyfriend was enough to snap her out of being mad. But somehow this was worse, because he had never wanted her pity. "This is bad."

"I know what I'm doing," he told them, and it was mostly true. "You guys getting involved will only-."

"Is this about what you said the other night?" Harry interrupted, and Draco couldn't stop the cold dread that seeped through him at the knowing look in Harry's eyes.

Because yes, Draco had slipped up. He'd been emotional and upset, and he had just wanted to tell Harry everything, no matter the consequences.

But he didn't remember slipping up _that_ much.

"I don't know what you're-."

"You said Voldemort was making you do something," Harry said, reaching out, his fingers wrapping around Draco's forearm, digging into the scar there, searing in way that Draco was sure was entirely in his head. "You said you were trying to protect your mother. Me."

And Draco wanted to laugh, because of course that was the conclusion Harry had drawn. Because of course to Harry, Draco must be innocent. Because of course-

"Does Dumbledore know about this?" Hermione asked, and she sounded so naive that Draco did laugh, wrenching his arm out of Harry's grasp and jerking away from them as if he'd been burned.

"Just leave me alone," he said.

"Draco," Harry started, but Draco was already backing away, and Blaise put his hand on Harry's shoulder, holding him back and watching Draco with dark eyes. And he suddenly knew that Blaise, at least, understood. And it was a horrible kind of understanding, because he also knew that it didn't matter. Not in the least.

"Get off me!" Harry snapped, pulling away from Blaise, but it was already too late, and Draco was taking off down the corridor, getting as far away from them as he could.

* * *

He wasn't entirely sure how long he was in the room of requirement after his confrontation with Harry. It felt like forever. It felt like no time at all.

He focused his attention entirely on the cabinet. He was out of time. He was out of time with Harry, with Nott, with his life. He clutched his mother's letter to his chest as he worked, determined that he would solve the problem the cabinet presented, or he wouldn't leave the room at all.

He cast spell after spell after spell Borgin had sent him, running his hands along the cabinet as he looked for weaknesses in the wood or the magic. He put objects in and pulled them out, chanting the passwords it required and waiting only for nothing to happen.

Finally, he stepped away, sitting heavily on a chair off to the side and staring at cabinet as if the answer would magically present itself. He couldn't leave. He couldn't face Nott without some kind of plan. He couldn't face Harry without being able to tell the truth. He just… couldn't. He sighed, letting his head fall into his hands as he did.

And it was only in the silence that followed that he heard the loud scratching that came from the wardrobe. He looked up, staring at it as if it was possessed. And he was walking before he really knew what he was doing, reaching out and wrenching the door open, watching as the bird flew past his head, disappearing into the mess that was the room of requirement.

He stared. It had worked. It had actually worked. He'd put that bird in there maybe an hour or two ago, closing the door, chanting, opening it to find the bird gone, closing the door, chanting, and opening the door again only to be disappointed when the bird was still gone.

And now the bird was back.

The cabinet had actually worked.

And he was suddenly letting out a loud yell, his frustration and relief and victory soaring through and out of him in a loud release that he couldn't control if he wanted to.

"Who's there?" a voice asked, echoing through the room of requirement. And Draco froze as his moment of triumph passed and the horror took over. Not just the horror of someone discovering him but of what he had done. The terrifying reality that Hogwarts was about to fall, and he was going to be the cause.

He flicked his wand, the room around them turning pitch black while he kept his vision thanks to the spell. He heard a startled yell and scrambled toward it. He almost immediately saw the blinking figure of Professor Trelawney, wrapped in and clutching her shawls in the dark. He shoved her, ignoring her disgruntled shout as he herded her toward the door and out, slamming it behind it.

He flicked his wand again, watching as the lights came on around him, and he leaned back on the entrance door to the room of requirement, staring at the space straight ahead and feeling somewhere between relieved that his part was almost done, and horrified that he had actually done what he'd been told to do.

 ** _And one more Chapter for part 2 everyone ;) Get excited!_**


	36. Part 2: Chapter 16

_**Hello! A chapter extra fast for you since it's the end of Part 2!**_

 _ **Warning: switching POV**_

Chapter 16- To be Hated

Bellatrix was the worst of them, cackling from the moment she came through the cabinet as if she had just arrived at the Quidditch World Cup. She patted Draco on the shoulder as if she hadn't carved a knife along his forearm and ran along the room of requirement.

Greyback was next. He didn't care the havoc he caused. At least Bellatrix was loyal to the Dark Lord, Greyback was only loyal to whoever let him rip the most throats. And Draco _hated_ him.

There were two more after that, random Death Eaters that Draco had seen before but hadn't bothered to remember the name of. They nodded to him, their smiles twisted as if Draco had _wanted_ to let them into the school.

He didn't bother to correct them.

He led them out of the room of requirement, watching as Greyback disappeared down the hall with a feral snarl and the two Death Eaters smirked after him, brandishing their wands as they went. He almost followed, but Bellatrix was right behind him, her breath hot against the back of his neck, and he was very aware of the feebleness of his position.

He wasn't a Death Eater. He had betrayed them first, had done everything in his power to escape helping them at all. She could very easily kill him without fear of retribution.

"Bella," Severus' voice echoed down the corridor, and he was suddenly _there_ , black robes sweeping behind him as he came up to them. "I see you've made it into the school, then."

"We did," Bellatrix answered. "All thanks to Draco here," her hand landed on his shoulder, squeezing hard enough to hurt. He didn't bother to move. "I told you he had his uses, didn't I, Severus?" she sneered.

"Indeed," Severus answered, eyes flicking down to meet Draco's. And they were cold and dark and emotionless and for a long, terrifying second Draco was sure Severus had managed to fool all of them. He had managed to convince even Dumbledore that his true loyalty wasn't to Voldemort and now he would tell Bellatrix the truth, and Draco would die. Painfully.

And then Severus turned away, his robes billowing as he did.

"Unfortunately, Headmaster Dumbledore is not in the school at this time."

"What?" Bellatrix snarled, releasing Draco in favor of clenching her wand. "Well, where is he?"

"I'm sure I don't know," Severus answered. "As you're delighted to know, there are some things that Dumbledore does not tell even me."

"Why you!" And then she was whipping around, her wand flashing as it pointed at Draco, the curse flying before he even had a chance to register the words. And he was screaming as the pain hit him. Though he didn't hit the ground. He'd managed to perfect his ability to receive the cruciatus curse over the summer. "You knew; you warned him!" He gasped, muscles clenched and tight as she continued to screech at him.

When the pain stopped, it was because Severus had thrown her arm to the side, his face impassive and disapproving as he stared at her.

"The boy could not have warned him," Severus said, and it was almost amusing how Bellatrix twirled her wand like a pouting child, obviously convinced. "Dumbledore left over an hour ago, while you have arrived not ten minutes ago."

Because Draco _had_ warned Dumbledore. He had warned Dumbledore and Severus both, just like Dumbledore had told him to when Draco had first come to him for help over the summer.

"Professor!" and Nott was running down the corridor toward them, looking entirely too pleased with himself, flushed and completely comfortable in the presence of two known deatheaters. "There's a broom flying toward the Astronomy Tower from Hogsmeade!"

"Looks like Dumblydore is back after all," Bellatrix said, her smile wide and maniacal.

Bellatrix rushed passed, Nott right behind her as she went, leaving Draco and Severus standing in the corridor, staring at each other. And Draco knew he didn't imagine the tightening around Severus' eyes at the news. Because as much as Draco hated Dumbledore for what he'd made him do, he hated him more for what he was about to make Severus do.

* * *

Harry was… He didn't know what to do. He was still covered by his invisibility cloak as they landed on top of the Astronomy tower, just managing to let Madame Rosmerta's broom slip out of his numb fingers as Dumbledore ordered him to go and find Snape. Snape of all people.

The dark mark was hovering over the school, and Dumbledore was swaying and looking as if he was about the fall down, and he was asking Harry to go and find Snape. And Harry just... he didn't…

"But-," he started, and Dumbledore fixed his blue eyes on him, looking as serious as he ever did.

"Harry, you swore to obey me," he said, but Harry didn't have any time to say anything before the door to the Astronomy tower was being shoved open and someone was rushing inside, and Harry only saw the tip of a wand, and he was raising his own, prepared to defend himself, when suddenly his limbs clamped together, his body becoming rigid as Dumbledore's wand flicked toward him.

And Draco came into the light, his wand pointed straight at Dumbledore's chest, a horrible twisted snarl of anger and pain across his face.

And Harry didn't-couldn't understand as Draco's eyes landed on the broom Harry had just abandoned by the edge of the tower and his eyes hardened. He flicked his wand easily, almost casually at Dumbledore, a whispered 'Expelliarmus,' sounding brutally hard in the quiet air of the Astronomy tower. Dumbledore's wand went flying, landing and rolling across the ground, where Draco kicked it harshly away from him, still glaring with silver-grey eyes flashing in the moonlight.

Harry stared between them, still locked in Dumbledore's body-bind, stuck watching as Draco spoke, completely not understanding what was going on. Hadn't Draco come to help... Why was he...

"Who's with you?" Draco asked, nodding jerkily toward the second broom.

"I might as you the same question?" Dumbledore answered, smiling slightly as if the two of them were sharing an easy joke, and Draco's eyes narrowed, his hand tightening on his wand as if he was resisting the temptation to curse him. And Harry knew Draco didn't like Dumbledore, but he had never looked at him like _that_ before. "How many Death Eaters did you manage to sneak in, Draco?"

Harry stared at them. He had to be misunderstanding something. He had to be. Draco hadn't let Death Eaters into Hogwarts… He… And if Dumbledore had known, why had he _let_ him? There was something he was missing, some code between them or-

"Me?" Draco answered, and Harry felt something in him shatter as Draco continued speaking, only shrugging and looking nowhere near remorseful. "Only a few; Bellatrix let the rest in."

"And where are they now?" Dumbledore asked, still sounding terribly polite, and if Harry could have moved, he would have thrown himself between the two of them, though he had not the slightest idea who he would have been protecting.

Whether he should even _want_ to protect Draco anymore.

"Down below. Somehow word got out that there were Death Eaters in Hogwarts and the Order arrived to stop them," Draco shrugged, lowering his wand down to his side as if he couldn't be bothered to keep Dumbledore in check. And Harry didn't miss the way he said _them._ Not _us. Them._ As if he wasn't a Death Eater. And Harry remembered that Draco _didn't_ have a dark mark on his arm, and he shouldn't have cared so much about that tiny distinction in Draco's speech, but he couldn't help it. "They'll be up in a minute."

"Oh, and you've been ordered to hold me here, have you?" Dumbledore asked, and his words seemed to snap something in Draco, who snarled and stepped forward, glaring at Dumbledore as if he'd morally offended him.

"Don't speak to me about _orders,_ " he said, his voice twisting over the words. "Don't stand there and judge me for what you-," and Draco snapped his mouth shut, turning his face away abruptly, his face cold and hard and-hurt

And Harry remembered how terrified Draco had looked yesterday when he had gripped his forearm, fingernails digging into the scar that he _knew_ Draco didn't deserve and begged him for the truth. The tears on his neck when Draco had said he was trying to protect his mother, that he was trying to protect Harry.

He wished he had the power to move. He wished he had the power to do anything, because maybe if he could say something, anything to Draco that would make him stop what he was doing.

"Draco," Dumbledore answered, his voice soft, eyes full of pity as he watched Draco, and Draco was staring back at him, his wand held in white knuckles resting by his thigh, silver-grey eyes impossibly hard. "I appreciate the difficulty of the choices you've had to make; however, there-."

"Choices?" Draco interrupted with a loud startled scoff, and then he jerked as a loud shout sounded from the stairs behind them, a scream, clattering footsteps, and Draco turned back to Dumbledore with wide eyes and a defiant expression that Harry _couldn't understand_. "Tell me Harry isn't here," he said, his voice so soft Harry almost missed it.

"Of course, Harry isn't here, Draco," Dumbledore said, and Draco swallowed, his head half bowing, his wand hand trembling at his side, and Harry desperately wanted to go to him, but couldn't, didn't even know if he _should_.

"I could never tell when you were lying," Draco whispered.

And then the door was thrown open as black robed Death Eaters came rushing through, almost shoving Draco out of the way as they took up the space of the Astronomy Tower. And suddenly there were two wands pointed straight at Dumbledore as he leaned heavily against the wall, looking pale and horribly weak. Harry struggled against his body bind and wished again he could do _anything._

"Well done, Draco," Bellatrix Lestrange said, stepping forward to brush her hand along Draco's shoulder. He didn't move, didn't say anything as she continued to stare at Dumbledore, her wand pointed straight at his chest. "The Dark Lord will be so _pleased_ with you after tonight."

"Sure," another one of the Death Eaters said, his own wand pointed at Dumbledore with a cruel excitement. "Why don't you end it for us now, hmm, Draco?" he said, his smile widening as Draco finally moved, turning to stare at him. And the man lowered his wand, gesturing easily at Dumbledore as if he were bestowing an honor upon Draco.

And Draco didn't move for a long minute, his wand so tightly in his hand, Harry was afraid he was going to lose feeling in his fingers. But he didn't move.

And Harry felt the hope blaze through him so hot is hurt that much more when it was stamped out.

Another one of the Death Eaters was stepping forward, and Draco looked up at him, grey eyes shinning. It took Harry an embarrassingly long moment to recognize the new face as Severus Snape. And then he was shoving Draco out of the way, stepping toward Dumbledore, the hard lines of hate and disgust even more defined than Draco's had been.

"Severus…" Dumbledore whispered, his voice rough and pleading and Harry wanted to scream, would have screamed if he had been capable.

Because he suddenly _knew_ what was about to happen with a deadly certainty that he should have known from the second that Draco had stepped into the room.

"Please…" Dumbledore muttered, but Snape was already raising his wand, half a second pause before the words came out of his mouth.

" _Avada Kadavra_ ," and the life seemed to leave Dumbledore slower than it should have as he stumbled back to the edge of the Astronomy tower, his feet finding the edge as he tumbled off. And the pained scream stuck in Harry's throat where there should have been something, _anything_ coming out.

And then Dumbledore was gone, in a flash of white hair and a tumble of blue robes, leaving only the dark mark hanging horribly in the sky beyond.

* * *

Severus had Draco by the back of his robes, dragging him away from the combat lingering behind them. Ginny Weasley was fighting a Death Eater, one of the more horrible of them, and she scowled as they passed, barely moving to dodge a _Crucio_. Blaise gaped at him, stopping in his tracks, and he hesitated as Longbottom ran into his back; Professor McGonagall _right there_ , and where were they going anyway?

But Severus shoved him forward, hissing in his ear to keep moving, and Draco knew he couldn't stay. He knew he'd already made his choice. He'd already betrayed them all. Him and Severus.

Even if they had only been doing what Dumbledore had asked them to.

And Severus kept shoving him until they were outside of the castle walls moving away, away, away, and he didn't realize how close they were to Hagrid's hut until the half-giant was coming out, heading toward the Death Eater right in front of them, and Draco wanted to close his eyes and wish himself away from-

" _Impedimenta!"_ Harry's voice shouted from behind them, and the Death Eater on their heels dropped, landing and taking out the one right beside him.

Severus turned, shoving Draco behind him, which was more than Draco could have managed, since he just stood there and stared at Harry.

"How could you!" Harry shouted, and Draco wasn't sure who he was talking to. Maybe it didn't matter. It didn't feel like it did. "You _killed_ him! You…"

"Harry…" Draco said, talking before he knew what he was going to say, moving forward with his hand outstretched as if that would somehow make everything alright, as if that would make Harry forgive him when he knew there was no forgiveness left for him.

"Draco," Severus muttered, his hand tight on the back of Draco's robes, a warning that he shouldn't have needed.

"He's _dead…_ " Harry said, and Draco made himself move away, made himself turn up his chin, made himself clear his face, his mind. Because he hadn't care about Dumbledore. He'd hated him.

"He had it coming," Draco told Harry, and listened to the loud cackling laugher of Bellatrix behind him, watched as Harry's face crumbled in front of him, because somehow, Harry was apparently capable of more pain.

" _Incendio!"_ Bellatrix shouted, and Hagrid's hut went up in flames, beating down Draco's back, and the half-giant was shouting something Draco couldn't hear, couldn't process. His mind had seemed to narrow exclusively to Harry. To the pain that was now twisting to rage.

" _Sectum Sectr-,_ " Harry shouted, his voice rippling with anger and hurt, and Severus blocked the spell, his own wand flicking forward, sending Harry spiraling to the ground.

He stepped forward, toward… something, only to be wrenched back by Severus, dark eyes on his face with coldness Draco knew wasn't real but still hurt, and he was so numb, and it hurt so much.

And then there was one last cackle from Bellatrix, and Hagrid was on the ground as she and the last Death Eater with them Apparated away. And Harry was rolling to his knees, still clutching his wand, already raising it to point it at them.

" _Cruc-_ ," he shouted, but Severus blocked it, his hand tightening on Draco's arm as they too Apparated away.

They landed in the middle of Malfoy Manor's drawing room, Draco collapsing to the ground, heaving and coughing and gagging as Severus stood above him. If he'd had anything in his stomach, it would have been on the ground. But that was nothing compared to the pain in his chest.

"He was trying to kill me," he managed to cough out. "He would have cast an unforgivable straight at me."

Severus said nothing. There was nothing for him _to_ say.

"He _hates_ me, Severus," Draco said. "He hates me."

"You knew he would."

"I didn't know it would feel like this."

"Yes," Severus sighed. "You did."

* * *

Harry stood on top of the Astronomy tower. He didn't know which emotion was stronger, his fury or his hurt. He was afraid of what would happen when one of them won out.

Dumbledore was dead. Severus had killed him. Draco had helped. Not only helped but let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts _knowing_ what would happen.

Dumbledore was dead. Bill had been bitten by Fenrir, leaving no one sure if he was to become a Werewolf or not. Because Draco had let Fenrir into Hogwarts.

Even the Horcrux Harry and Dumbledore had gone to retrieve had been fake with only a note addressed from an RAB. Though he supposed he couldn't blame Draco for that one.

They'd had to pull him off Dumbledore, several people trying unsuccessfully before Ginny managed to gently pry him off and let him sob onto her shoulder like a child. He still wasn't sure if he was crying because Dumbledore was dead or because it was Draco's fault. Draco, who should have told him what was going on. Draco, who'd had every chance to come clean. Draco.

Probably both.

Definitely both.

He bowed his head, feeling the breeze move over him as he lean on the edge of the railing. It should never have come to this. He should have pushed harder. He should have insisted more. He should have _made_ Dumbledore talk to Draco, though he suspected now that Dumbledore _had_ talked to him, it just hadn't mattered.

Draco had made his choice, and it had been the wrong one.

"Harry?" Ginny's voice sounded behind him, but he didn't bother to turn as her footsteps approached, stopping right beside him, leaning against the railing next to him. He could tell she was staring at him, but he still refused to look at her. "I'm sorry about Dumbledore, and about… you know, Malfoy."

"Yeah," Harry muttered, and she was still staring, watching him, and he knew what she was waiting for. Maybe he wouldn't have before Draco, but he knew now. He sighed, looking down at the ground. The ground where Dumbledore had fallen to his death not twenty feet to the right.

And he was so tempted to say yes to her. Not because he particularly wanted her or loved her. He wasn't even sure if he was capable of loving anyone but Draco at this point, but because she would be _easy_. He would be able to breathe when he was around her. There would be no upcoming betrayal he would have to watch out for, and he wanted-if only for a second-to be able forget how much he hurt.

The problem was that he didn't know how.

"I still love him, Ginny," he said. "Maybe I shouldn't, but I do." he didn't bother to tell her that he also hated him. He didn't bother to tell her that he would never trust Draco again. He didn't bother to say that he might just kill him when he got the chance.

She didn't need to know that for him to turn her down.

"I figured," she said, her hand reaching out, covering one of his own with hers, squeezing before drawing away. "But then I thought it was worth a shot."

"Yeah," he nodded, and listened to her retreating footsteps as she left the tower. He listened to her greeting as she passed what must have been Hermione and Ron on their way up to him. And then they were standing at his shoulders, looking over the Hogwarts ground with him. Hermione took his hand, leaning her head on his shoulder and sniffed.

"I'll miss him," she said, and Harry didn't bother to answer.

"Yeah," Ron said. "He was starting to be less annoying to be around."

"You'll always have us, Harry," Hermione said, and Harry squeezed her hand, because somehow that would have to be enough.

"Yeah, mate," Ron answered, and Harry could feel his eyes on his face. Could feel both of them staring at him. "We'll be here for you as long as you need it."

 ** _And that's the end. Who guessed Draco wasn't_ actually _betraying Harry? Everyone, no one? ;) Obviously, not Harry..._**

 ** _There will not be another update this week, since I'll be sorting out and beginning to plan part 3. However, the first part of Part 3 should be up on Saturday the 29th._**

 ** _Thanks to everyone who has Favorited, Followed, and reviewed. You are all awesomesause!_**


	37. Part 3: Chapter 1

**_Hello, again! So sorry this wasn't posted sooner! It took more planning to plan than I original thought... lol, planning to plan... anyway, moving on. I hope you enjoy and thanks so much for reading!_**

Part 3- Year 7

How the Love was Fallen

 _ **Warning: references to torture**_

Chapter 1- The Pretend

"Harry," Sirius called, his voice echoing up the stairs. "Are you ready?" he stood in the middle of his room in Grimmauld Palace, staring at his suitcase and feeling… He didn't actually know how he felt. He knew he wasn't coming back here. At least not until he'd destroyed all Voldemort's Horcruxes, which could take who knew how long.

It had been decided fairly early that he wouldn't be sent back to his Aunt and Uncle for the summer. He didn't know who had decided that, and he didn't much care. He'd been assured that everything with his family would be taken care of, but again, he didn't much care. He figured they were just as relieved to be rid of him as he was to be rid of them.

"Harry!" Sirius called up the stairs again, sounding exasperated. He started, grabbing his suitcase and tugging it off the bed. It landed with a loud thud as he started to wheel it across the bedroom.

"I'm coming!" he called back. Living with Sirius had been a learning experience for both of them. The first month or so Sirius had hovered over him, reminding him more of Molly Weasley than anything else. Harry had eventually had to tell him that the only thing he'd wanted was space. His mentor had died. His boyfriend had just betrayed him. He just wanted to be left alone. And Sirius had looked him in the eye and answered that 'you don't leave family alone when they're hurting, Harry.' It had been a new experience for him to say the least.

Still Sirius had his moments too. Like the one time he'd almost gotten Harry arrested in a Muggle coffee shop because he was sure the waitress was hitting on him. He was still immature, sometimes morose, prone to locking himself up in the study with Buckbeak, but they were both learning. And Harry was happier than he ever would have been at Privet Drive.

Not to say that he was particularly happy. Just happier.

He stumbled to a stop at the bottom of the stairs, his suitcase almost hitting Sirius as it crashed down the last step. Sirius just raised an eyebrow at him before gesturing toward the living room and watching Harry wheel his suitcase past. The Floo was already set up; Sirius' own luggage set awkwardly beside the fireplace.

"You go first," Sirius said, winking in the roughish way that would no doubt drive Mrs. Weasley crazy once they arrived. "I'm right behind you."

"Alright," Harry answered, stepping into the fireplace with his suitcase digging into his ribs as he shoved it beside him. He threw down a handful of Floo powder. "The Burrow!" he called, immediately feeling the dizzying shove and pull of Floo travel that he hadn't gotten used to yet. Would probably never get the chance to used to.

There had been talk about armed guards and escorts and about whether they should take him to the Burrow by broom instead of Floo, but Sirius had had a long—loud conversation that had ended with Harry and him traveling alone by Floo to the Burrow. They were going for Harry's birthday, for Fleur and Bill Weasley's wedding, for—as Sirius said—"something to get you out of the house." He'd said it with a dark look in his eyes that told Harry more than anything else that Sirius knew exactly what he was planning, and that he didn't like it one bit.

But there was nothing he could do about it.

Harry landed with a green flare in the Weasley's living room, stumbling out of their fireplace and probably getting soot onto their carpet. Not that they much seemed to care. Mrs. Weasley was on him in a minute, pressing him against her chest in a tight hug, babbling something about him being skinny and asking if Sirius was feeding him.

"Of course, I'm feeding him," Sirius answered, stepping out of the Floo. He set his own suitcase aside with a wide grin that didn't reach his eyes before turning and hugging Remus tightly.

Mrs. Weasley huffed but released him. And Hermione was suddenly right there, throwing her arms around him, Ron standing right behind her, smiling brightly. They'd been sending letters all summer, but they hadn't been able to see each other. It was too dangerous to really go out anymore. And it was different to actually be in the same room as them. To look in their eyes and know they were still with him, even after everything. Because he didn't think he could take another betrayal. After a minute, Hermione let him go, stepping back with one hand on his shoulder.

"Good to see you, Harry," Mr. Weasley smiled, putting his hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry barely got the chance to smile at him though before Fleur was there, kissing him across the cheeks and greeting him with enthusiasm that he couldn't keep up with. He heard Remus' laugh over his shoulder and looked around to see him still standing over by Sirius. He tilted his head toward Harry, acknowledging him. His eyes dark and knowing and sad.

* * *

Draco bowed his head forward, letting the water get into his eyes as his hair fell into his face. He should be finishing up; he'd spent too much time in the shower already, but this was one of the few times he could simply _be_ without anyone disturbing him. He shuffled his feet, staring down at the tiles and feeling… he didn't know what he felt. Hadn't know for all long time. Hadn't been _allowed_ to feel anything but fear and loyalty and more fear for so long.

He squeezed his eyes shut, still picturing the woman who Voldemort had presented at the latest Death Eater meeting. He'd said her name was Charity Burbage; she had apparently been a Muggle Studies teacher at Hogwarts. Draco could have done without ever knowing who she'd been. He could have done without ever knowing who any of the people the Dark Lord ordered him to torture were. But then he supposed it was sometimes worse to imagine.

The water was running in thick streams through his hair, catching across his closed eyes and making his eyelashes heavy. It was boiling hot, burning down his neck and back as it made its way to the shower floor. There had been a girl last week; Draco was fairly sure she was a muggle. The Dark Lord had never told him who she was, and Draco had never asked. In between the three days of _crucio,_ and even after he'd been ordered to cast _Avada Cadavra_ , Draco had never asked who she was. At the time, he'd been relieved.

Sometime after the fifth night of nightmares, he'd stopped being relieved. He couldn't stop seeing her in a bright dress somewhere with a family. Maybe a fiancé, a husband? Children. Did she have parents she loved as much as he loved his mother? And the thoughts went around and around and around.

Draco stepped forward, grinding his forehead against the wall. The water was getting extremely hot now. He needed to turn it down. Or just get out. He needed to get out. No doubt his father or Bellatrix or the Dark Lord were looking for him by now.

He sighed, reaching down and twisting the nob as the water reached an unbearable level. He stepped out, curling his fingers around his wand and flicking it. He was dry in the next second, setting his wand down and pulling his robes over his body. Severus was waiting for him when he stepped out into the hall, his dark eyes thoughtful as they locked on Draco's.

"You were in there a long time," he said. Draco didn't bother to answer, passing by Severus as he made his way toward the entry hall.

After the Death Eater meeting, Draco had accompanied Severus to his house, saying he was going to visit his mother. Really, he just wanted to get away from Bellatrix, from Lucius, from the Dark Lord. He didn't know why the Dark Lord had released Lucius from prison. Maybe just because he could. Maybe because he liked the way he cowered. And of course, when he'd demanded to live in Malfoy Manor, Bellatrix had been quick to agree, and Lucius had bowed and scraped, and Draco had had no choice.

At least his mother was with Severus under the pretense of receiving treatment for her condition. The Dark Lord had just smiled thinly when he'd heard that, looking more amused than anything else. Draco had taken what victories he could get.

"Draco," Severus said, walking behind him, and he stopped, turning his head just enough to look back at him. "Come sit. You still have time, and no doubt Narcissa will be upset if she misses you."

* * *

The only ones who seemed truly excited were Bill and Fleur. And even Bill had a subdued edge to him, the look of someone who knew something bad was coming but was determined to celebrate the good anyway. Fleur flew around as if she was in a daze, screeching when her parents arrived and driving everyone in the Burrow crazy. Harry supposed if he was getting married, he would be unbearable too.

Except he wasn't getting married because the one person he wanted to marry... Well.

"I think I've got everything," Hermione muttered. It was probably her fifth time saying it, but then she always thought of something else to pack, something else to throw in her bag.

"Hermione, relax," Ron answered, sitting on his bed across from where she was rummaging. Harry was sitting on the bed next to his, leaning against the wall as he watched her. They'd finally gotten away from Mrs. Weasley's endless instructions, the endless preparations for the wedding, and the watchful eyes of not just Mrs. Weasley but Sirius as well.

"I've been packing for days. We'll have changes of clothes, books-."

"Hermione," Harry interrupted, and she finally looked over at them, breathing out a long sigh as she did. After another minute, she moved over and sat next to Ron at his bed.

"We need to decide where we're going once we leave here," Hermione said. "We'll be on our own."

"What about your parents?" Harry asked, and Hermione's eyes tightened as she looked away from him.

"They're… They won't be a problem."

"What-?" he started, but Ron was talking before he could ask anything else.

"I think my parents know, you know," Ron said. "But my mom doesn't want to accept it."

"Sirius is the same way," Harry sighed. "We won't be able to go to Grimmauld Palace unless we want him to come with us."

"Would that be so bad?" Ron answered. Hermione frowned, and Harry couldn't tell if she disapproved or not. He knew she thought Sirius was immature, but he wasn't sure if she disapproved of him that much. Still, he didn't know that he wanted to drag Sirius into his mess.

"I don't know," Harry said. "I just have a feeling that's not going to happen."

"It's not like we can decide where we're going without knowing where the next Horcrux is anyway," Ron said, and Harry felt a little like they were chasing air. Lost with no idea which direction he should be chasing. And he couldn't help thinking that Draco would know exactly what to do.

Except Draco wasn't there.

"Still no news about the locket with the note from RAB?" Hermione asked.

"None," Harry answered. "And it's not like we would know how to destroy one even if we did have a Horcrux."

And that didn't exactly lighten the mood.

"I wish Dumbledore had..." Harry trailed off, the thought feeling hot and raw between them. Hermione shifted, switching beds so she could press her hand into Harry's shoulder.

"Harry?"

"He would still be here if not for Malfoy," he bit out, and he couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice, the hurt. Because he wasn't even sure it was true. But it was so much easy to blame Draco when Draco wasn't there. When he wasn't there by his own choice.

"Harry," Hermione said, her voice soft and uncertain. "I've been thinking about that. And I think- That is to say, Ron and I think it's no so simple-.'

"Of course it is!" Harry snapped, making her jump.

"Oi," Ron answered, his face somewhere between pity and annoyed.

"Look," Harry said, trying to keep his voice level. "Malfoy betrayed us. There's nothing else to it."

"I..." Hermione cast Ron a significant look before turning back to him, her eyes soft an full of something he didn't really understand. "Alright."

* * *

"You know, I told him as little as I could," Severus said, and Draco could feel his dark eyes on him as he kept his face turned resolutely away. He wondered what he looked like. He wondered what Severus saw. He wondered if he really wanted to know. "The Dark Lord would be suspicious if I didn't-."

"I never said anything," Draco interrupted. He sat across from Severus in his sitting room. It was dark, not as in low lit but as in the furniture was dark. It wasn't near as impressive as Malfoy Manor, but then he had a feeling Severus wasn't trying to be impressive.

"You didn't have to," Severus sighed, shifting in his chair, and Draco heard the clattering of tea that meant he must have set his cup down.

"I'm not angry you told the Dark Lord Harry was at the Burrow," Draco said, and he almost believed himself. "You did what you had to do," he paused. He was developing as much of a dramatic effect as Severus. "We always do what we have to do."

"Don't forget why we're doing this," Severus answered, and he sounded so calm. He always sounded so calm. And Draco wanted to throw something at him. He tightened his hands on his lap, keeping his stare across the room as he spoke.

"Do you have any idea what the Dark Lord was talking about when he took Lucius' wand?" he asked, because maybe if he changed the subject he wouldn't explode. Because if he exploded, he didn't know if he could go back to being in control. To being afraid.

"No," Severus said, and his voice was the tone he had when Draco imagined him frowning. "It must have something to do with the twin wand cores."

"Hmm," Draco answered. "And you'll be there when they attack the Burrow?"

"I imagine the Dark Lord will expect me," he answered. "But, Draco, I won't be able-." he was interrupted by the opening of the door, Narcissa's white blonde hair flashing as she came into the room. Draco rose as she made her way over to him. She didn't have the presence she used to, the confidence and the grace that she'd always possessed, and it hurt to see the look of confusion that passed over her face every time she looked at him.

"Draco," she muttered, her hand falling on his shoulder. It had been the way she always touched him when he'd been away. "How are you?"

"Fine, Mother," he answered, stepping out from under her hand. It wasn't that she wasn't better. When he'd left her with the Zabinis last summer, she had been nearly catatonic, barely eating, staring out the window, not responding no matter what he did. Now she was talking, recognizing him, remembering some things even. She had even gotten better since she'd been with Severus, but she still wasn't the same.

And he knew it wasn't fair to expect her to be, but she had always been the one constant in his life. The one person in his life he'd been able to count on, even when his father was cruel, or classes were hard, or his classmates were prejudice. And he knew it wasn't fair to her, but he really needed her.

He needed her to look at him with her soft blue eyes that had that edge of steel as he told her of everything that was going on. She would know what to do. She would know how he could possibly get through losing Harry and his free will and his morality.

"I should really go," Draco told her, his face softening as her face fell. And he waited for her to stop him, for her to say something as she would always have in the past.

"Of course," she smiled tightly, stepping out of his way. And he had to get away. He ducked his head, stepping out of the room, and heading for the entrance. He just…

"Draco," Severus called behind him, stopping him with his hand on the door. "Give her time." Draco just swing the door open, letting himself out. He was out of time to give.


	38. Part 3: Chapter 2

_**Warning: Some text from original book, lots of angst (seriously, people)**_

Chapter 2- The Blame

Harry lurched awake, his scar burning as he sat up. Ron leaned away from him, half on Harry's bed as he withdrew his hand. It was obvious that he'd been the one to wake Harry up, the one to pull him out of his half remembered dream.

"What happened?" he managed, his throat feeling dry, the room around him blurry with his lack of glasses.

"You were talking in your sleep," Ron answered. "Gregorovitch, I think."

"Oh, who's that?"

"Well, I don't know. You where the one saying it," Ron frowned as Harry blinked at him.

"Oh," he said again, feeling a million miles away. The name sounded so familiar. He supposed it would have to since he'd been saying it… but

"Well, Happy Birthday, anyway," Ron said, holding a package out to him.

"Oh!" Harry brightened, looking over at the well wrapped present Ron was presenting him. He'd almost forgotten today was his birthday. His Seventeenth Birthday. The day the Trace was supposed to disappear off him. He immediately picked up his wand. _"Accio Glasses,_ " he called, watching as they flew across the room and promptly stabbed him in eye. Ron snorted loudly.

"Well, here you are, then," Ron wiggled the present under his nose again, and Harry blinked as he took it. It was heavier than he expected it to be, thicker. And as he unwrapped it, it quickly became clear why.

"A book?" Harry asked, flipping it over in his hands. The title was written in golden letters across the cover, proclaiming it to be _Twelve Fail-Save Ways to Charm Witches and Wizards Alike._ He looked up at Ron, noticing his bright red face and didn't quite know how to take the present.

"Well, I… You know, with everything that happened with Malfoy, I figured you'd be needing a little jump start to get back in the game," Ron cleared his throat, turning even brighter red. "I just. Fred and George gave me the Witch version, and I learned a lot, but I didn't want to assume so…" he trailed off, and Harry realized with a start what exactly Ron was trying to do.

He was saying he accepted Harry. He accepted whether he wanted to be with boys or girls. He accepted whether he'd moved on from Draco or hadn't. And it meant a lot more than Harry had ever expected it to.

"Thanks," Harry muttered.

"Yeah, well," Ron cleared his throat. "We should head down."

There were more presents waiting downstairs. Mrs. Weasley had also baked Harry a large breakfast, greeting him with a hug and a loud 'Happy Birthday.' The Weasleys had gotten him a watch for his birthday; Hermione had gotten him a Sneakoscope; chocolates, a razor, merchandise from Fred and George. When they were done, Hermione collected it all in her arms and lugged it upstairs to pack it up. Mrs. Weasley smiled at him before disappearing back in the kitchen as Ron lounged on the couch.

"Harry," Ginny called suddenly; she was standing on the stairs, her back facing her room. "Will you come in here for a moment." He swallowed. It was obvious she was talking about her room, and he couldn't help thinking about the last time they had talked. About how she had said she figured he still loved Draco, but she had thought it had been worth a shot. He couldn't help wondering if she still thought the same thing. If she thought it was worth a second try. He couldn't help wondering if he'd let her this time.

He stepped into her room, giving it a once over before turning his attention on her. She looked good, her bright red hair swept over her shoulder as she stood looking at him. He thought about what Ron had said about getting back in the game, about how he'd stumbled over what had happened with Draco as if it was something to be pitied. He didn't want to be pitied.

Ginny wasn't looking at him with pity.

"Happy Seventeenth," she said, staring over at him. Intense, pretty. She reminded him of Draco in that way; hard to look at when she focused everything on you. Except where Ginny was pretty, Draco took his breath away, made it so he didn't know how to recover.

"Thanks," he answered.

"I couldn't think what to get you," she told him, stepping toward him, and he thought again of how he could love her. If he could just let go of Draco, start over, move on. It should have been so easy.

"I kind of thought I'd like you to have something to remember me by," she muttered, stepping ever closer, and he could feel her breath across his face, her hair along his neck. And he wanted to, he really wanted to… just let go. And she was leaning forward, her lips on his before he could think, kissing him, her hand brushing along his shoulder up along his face, and he was kissing back before he knew what he was doing.

And he couldn't help but think of Draco. Draco and how he would give anything to be standing here kissing Draco, but he couldn't, because Draco had betrayed him, and there was nothing he could do about that. And kissing Ginny shouldn't feel like a betrayal, but it did, and he didn't understand how that was fair when he would never get to kiss Draco again. He would never get to feel Draco's lips on his, Draco's tongue in his mouth, Draco's hair in his hand, Draco's hands on his body. He didn't understand how it was fair that he was still in love with Draco when he had let Draco leave him. When he had-

"Harry," Ginny pulled away from him abruptly, startled when he let out a loud sob, tears running down his face, but he couldn't hold it in anymore. He'd been holding it in all summer.

If he had just paid a little bit more attention. If he had just looked a little harder. He could have… He should have seen… If he had just…

It had been his fault.

"Harry…" Ginny said again as he made a long broke sound, and the door to her bedroom was being swung open, and Hermione was marching in, staring at him with a mix of shock and horror, Ron right behind her, and he couldn't stop crying. He _shouldn't_ stop, because he deserved it.

He hadn't stopped it, and he _should_ have been able to.

* * *

Draco stopped in front of the door to the study, taking a breath before he went in. He hated when the Dark Lord summoned him; it almost always meant he wanted Draco to torture someone. For some reason, the Dark Lord seemed to enjoy watching Draco torture instead of just doing it himself. Severus had told him it was double the torture.

He knocked on the door, waiting for the creaky 'enter' to be called before pushing it open. Only Bellatrix and the Dark Lord were in the room. Bellatrix was standing, looking excited as she hovered near while the Dark Lord was seated behind Lucius' desk, staring at Draco as he entered.

"My Lord," Draco bowed, and he made no attempt to hide the fear that shot through him as the Dark Lord smiled coldly at him.

"Ah, Draco," the Dark Lord said. "I'm sure you're aware of our upcoming raid on the Weasley... _grounds_ ," his lip curled over the word, and Draco had no doubt he was thinking a different word than what he'd said.

"Of course, My Lord."

"Well, I'd like you to join our party," he said, tracing one long nail across the top of Lucius' desk, his eyes never leaving Draco.

"I…" Draco paused, and the Dark Lord's smile grew. And it was his satisfaction that broke Draco out of his surprise. "Of course, My Lord, thank you for the opportunity," he said, bowing low.

"That's all. Now leave me."

"Of course, My Lord," Draco answered, bowing again, before backing out of the room.

As soon as the door shut behind him, he walked mechanically to his room, his body taking over as his mind felt numb, lost. He couldn't afford to show his emotions; of that he knew. He stopped in the middle of his room, staring off into space with his expression blank. He couldn't afford to do anything but attack the Burrow with everything he had; of that he knew.

Except, he didn't think he could.

He couldn't kill Longbottom—Longbottom, who Blaise had looked at as if he had hung the moon. Luna, who had come after him at the Department of Mysteries even though she didn't know him. Ron, who had laughed about nothing with him in the infirmary.

He couldn't hurt Hermione—Hermione who has stood outside the Gryffindor common room and laughed at the Weasel with him, who had asked if he was ok and actually meant it, who had understood his fascination with Runes, who had become him friend.

And he certainly couldn't hand over Harry to the Dark Lord—Harry, who might or might not hate him, who had stood against the wall at Grimmauld Palace and told Draco he wanted him, who had told Draco he loved him, who didn't deserve anything Draco had done to him.

Draco closed his eyes, feeling tired and conflicted and trapped and knowing he didn't have a choice, and hating himself for using that excuse again.

* * *

The wedding was in full swing. Bill Weasley was dancing with Fleur Weasley, twirling her around the dance floor in her swirling robes while her Veela white hair flew out behind her. Harry himself was disguised as some Weasley third cousin with red hair and a bloated face, which had made him suddenly glad of his own appearance. There were hundreds of people here, there, everywhere. Plenty of people Harry had no idea who they were, no idea whether he _should_ know who they were.

Luna smiled at him from across a table, her eyes bright and dazed in the blinding lights around them as she spoke to her father Xenophilius Lovegood. Ginny was around somewhere, in a dress someone had whispered to Harry was 'entirely too low cut.' Lupin and Sirius were sitting at a table and talking animatedly a little way away. Mad Eye was standing in a corner, drinking out of his flask and glaring at anyone who got close. Fred and George were off flirting with some innocent girl, refusing to be proper.

Hermione was hovering next to Harry as if he were about to start crying again even though it had been several days since his birthday, and he'd been _fine_. Ron was making faces behind Viktor Krum's back, pretending as if him being there wasn't bothering him.

Harry didn't know who had invited Krum, but the ten minutes of conversation he had spent with Krum had been the most awkward of his life. The only thing he had learned was that Xenophilius Lovegood was apparently wearing the sign of Grindelwald, and that Krum's wand was made by Gregorovitch, who Harry had been dreaming about and was apparently retired.

"I don't know what you ever saw in him," Ron scowled, looking over at where Krum was now talking to one of Ron's aunts, looking flustered and confused.

"Honestly, Ronald," Hermione sighed before turning to look at Harry pointedly. "How are _you_ doing, Harry?"

"I'm fine," he answered. And he was. He was _fine._ He didn't need her to keep looking at him as if he was about to come apart. Just because he'd cried on Ginny, because she'd kissed him, because- he stopped himself, because if he went down that road he really might start crying. And really, he couldn't afford to be anything but fine.

Which, he was.

Fine.

"Harry," Hermione scowled at him.

"Have you figured out the writing on the snitch yet?" Ron asked, abruptly changing the conversation. Harry sent him a grateful look.

"Not yet," he answered. The day after his birthday, Minister Scrimgeour had visited the Burrow to read and deliver the will of Dumbledore to Harry, Hermione, and Ron. Dumbledore had left Ron his Deluminator. It was a strange device that looked little like a cigarette lighter, except when the button was clicked it sucked the power from lights or alternately restored them.

To Hermione he'd left his copy of _The Tales of Beetle the Bard_. It had obviously been his own copy, battered and falling apart with writing all along the inside, and Hermione had been crying by the time Scrimgeour had handed it to her.

To Harry he had left the sword of Godric Gryffindor, which he apparently wasn't allowed to give and the snitch Harry had caught at his first quidditch match. Scrimgeour and Hermione had both talked about snitches having flash memories, watching Harry take hold of the snitch and looking disappointed when nothing had happened.

Fortunately, Harry had had an idea as to what Dumbledore actually had in mind. As soon as Scrimgeour left, he'd pressed his lips to the snitch, remembering how in his first game he'd almost swallowed the thing. Immediately, writing had appeared across the snitch's golden surface, proclaiming _I open at the close._ Unfortunately, none of them knew what it meant.

* * *

Draco pulled the hood of his cloak up around his face. He felt exposed, naked, even though he was wearing the thick black robes of a Death Eater, and he knew that with his hood up, no one would be able to tell who he was. But it just didn't matter, couldn't matter when he was being asked to-

He felt someone walk up beside him, stopping just beside his elbow, hovering. Their hood was pulled up, their face covered, but somehow, he knew it was Severus. And he knew Severus was trying to comfort him, trying to make him feel better, but it only made him feel worse, because he shouldn't _need_ it.

He wasn't a child anymore. He had a responsibility to his mother—to Harry not to be weak. He tightened his grip around his wand as the Dark Lord raised his hand to give the signal.

* * *

Luna laughed loudly at Harry's joke, her blonde hair tucked behind her shoulder. Her father was standing just behind her, smiling and looking a little lost as if he had no idea what Harry was talking about. Hermione and Ron were across the room, dancing to the slow waltz that was playing.

Actually, most of crowd was on the dance floor, moving with their hands on someone else, heads on someone's shoulder, and Harry couldn't stop the ache that burned through him at the thought that it could have been him and Draco out there. He turned his head away from the dance floor, making himself look back at Luna as-

He jumped at the first scream, a high-pitched sound of terror that came from almost immediately behind him. He was turning to look when the second Death Eater appeared right in the middle of the party. There was another scream off the right, but by the time Harry turned there was a Death Eater's Apparating right in front of him.

He pulled his wand out, but Luna was stepping in front of him to cast _Stupefy,_ and the Death Eater fell. He looked around; Lupin and Sirius were a little way away, exchanging spells with a couple Death Eaters. He could see Ginny with her back against the wall; Krum Aparrating away; Mr. Weasley shoving his way toward Mrs. Weasley with Mad Eye at his back. He took a step—he didn't know where—he didn't where Ron and Hermione were—he didn't... It was chaos. The party and yard had erupted into chaos and screaming and spells.

"Harry!" Luna's hand on his arms stopped him. She pointed steadily to the left, her other hand tight around her wand. "Ron and Hermione. You have to get out of here!" and she was shoving him, and he was running, just making out the top of Hermione's brown well-curled hair. And he didn't know how he could have left Luna. But when he turned back to look all he saw was a Death Eater right in front of him. He barely had time to point his wand as the Death Eater saw him.

" _Expeliarmus!"_ he yelled, snatching the wand out of the air. The Death Eater's eyes widened, and he took several steps back.

"He's here!" he shouted, pointing his free hand straight at Harry. "It's him!" And Harry felt the panic rush through him as the meaning behind the Death Eater's words became clear.

* * *

Draco had Mad Eye Moody in front of him, Arthur Weasley behind him, Severus Snape beside him. They had each taken their hits; Moody and Weasley taking out two Death Eaters while Severus had managed to _stupefy_ one of the party guests and create a long gash in Weasley's leg. Moody had let out a loud yell at that, lunging forward and slashing; the move would have cost Severus if Draco hadn't been there.

"He's here!" It was faint. The shouting was so faint, just _there_ in the back of his head, but he still heard it. "It's him!" and it took him too long to realize what had been said. And Moody was lunging again, moving forward, but he didn't have time; he couldn't—it wasn't. He had to get to Harry before-

The words fell out of his mouth before he knew what he was doing.

" _Avada Kadavra,_ " he yelled, and watched the green light flash, enveloping Mad Eye Moody. And he watched as the haggled Auror fell stiff, collapsing to the ground in a hard lump. Weasley screamed loudly, lurching forward, but Severus was already there, the _stupefy_ flying off his tongue.

Draco stared at Moody's lifeless body, his eyes wide. He'd killed him. He'd chosen to kill him, and-

Severus seized his arm, dragging him away and shoving him to the side; he was hissing something. Something that didn't, couldn't register in Draco's mind. He was lost. Weak.

* * *

Harry didn't know how Voldemort could have arrived so fast, how he could have zeroed in on Harry as fast as he did. Harry's vision was blurring as he stared around him. The ground was in flames as people screamed. He could see George in a puddle of his own blood, Fred standing over him, his wand half raised as he held off attack. He'd seen Remus and Sirius go down after Bellatrix had approached, her hood thrown back with a loud laugh. He had no idea where Luna and her father was, Bill and Fleur, Mrs. Weasley, Ginny. He felt dizzy, sick.

" _Avada -,_ " he heard Voldemort's voice call distantly, the words sounding in his ears, far away, but he couldn't focus past the damage he had caused.

But his wand was raising on his own, his arm following the movement. He gasped as golden light exploded from the tip, answering Voldemort's green fire and batting it aside. He heard Voldemort's scream of fury, saw him toss his cracked wand aside. And he was lunging toward Harry when someone grabbed him from behind, and he felt the sickening lurch of Apparition as the ground of the Burrow disappeared.

 ** _Ahhhhh! don't hate me. It's not as bad as it seems. Probably. *cries in the corner*_**


	39. Part 3: Chapter 3

_**Thank you for your wonderful reviews! You're all awesomesauce!**_

 _ **Warning: N/A**_

Chapter 3- The Reaction

"Why are you doing this?" Ginny Weasley shrieked, yanking against Draco's hold on her arm. He knew she was crying—or at least, she'd been crying upstairs when Bellatrix had ordered Arthur Weasley off to Azkaban. Draco supposed she'd been thinking it was karma or something. He was a ministry employee, a blood traitor, and for once, it was him locked up instead of the Death Eaters. He had been more focused on trying to tune out her laugh than thinking about her logic.

"I thought you'd changed!" Weasley insisted, but he just kept walking, keeping his eyes straight ahead. He refused to respond to her; he refused to be distracted. Distracted as he had been when he'd killed Mad-Eye Moody. Distracted as he never should have been. As he couldn't afford to be.

"Forget it, Weasley," Black muttered, his voice low and raw behind them. He was being led along by another Death Eater, still trembling from the several _crucios_ he'd gone through. Draco's eyes flicked back before he could stop himself, and he could still see Black's eyes when Remus Lupin had been sent off to Greyback. Bellatrix voice high and amused when she'd said that maybe Greyback could make something useful out of him. They'd _crucio_ Black when he'd struggled, Lupin's face turning pale and frightened as he'd been Apparated away. Draco wrenched his eyes forward.

Most of the Death Eaters were gone, back at their own houses by now. There were a few exceptions, such the two behind him, helping to drag Luna Lovegood, Ginny Weasley, and Sirius Black down to the Malfoy dungeons, and Bellatrix and Lucius, who lived in the Manor. Even Severus had gone back to his own home-not that Draco could blame him there. The Dark Lord himself had disappeared in Lucius' study with only Nagini after a couple of hissed commands, obviously displeased. Whatever his plan had been with Lucius' borrowed wand, it hadn't worked. No thanks to Draco.

Draco paused in front of the dungeon gate, pushing it open. Ollivander looked back at him from his seated position on the floor, not bothering to move, and Draco shoved Ginny Weasley into the cell. She grunted, turning to glare at him from under her unattractive red hair. He gestured and watched as Black and Luna went in next, shutting the door firmly behind them, and the Death Eaters were already heading up the stairs laughing and chatting about something, their hood thrown back carelessly.

But Black was staring at him through the bars, dark and accusatory, and Draco didn't know how to just walk away when- He cleared his throat, half turning. He couldn't afford to be weak. He couldn't.

"Draco?" Luna called, and she was standing just on the other side of the door, staring at him. And he hadn't been prepared to deal with her sounding so nonjudgmental—sounding as if she _understood._ "Do you know what happened to everyone else?"

"I-," he glanced up the stairs, checking to make sure no one else was close enough to hear him. He bit his lip; he didn't know what he was doing. He should just walk away; he shouldn't- "I saw the twins Apparate Mrs. Weasley away. The couple who was getting married and your dad were gone too, I think."

"Harry?" Black asked, and Draco could feel his eyes sharp on Draco.

"I…" Draco's gaze flicked toward him and away. He cleared his throat, shifted, and then forced himself to stand still. "He got away with Hermione and Weasley after his duel with the Dark Lord."

"Why are you doing this?" Ginny Weasley asked, stepping up close to Luna. "I thought you and Harry were-."

"You thought wrong," Draco snapped, interrupting her, and her face clouds over at his words. She opens her mouth to snap something, but Black was already talking before she got the chance.

"Harry needs help," Black told him, and the implied message was loud and clear, and if anyone else had heard it, Draco would be screaming for a week.

"You can't ask me something like that," Draco answered, and he sounded robotic even to his own ears.

"You know where he'll go."

"You _can't_ ask me to-."

"Well, I _am,_ " Black snapped back, his eyes cold and dark and hard, and Draco was turning on his heel, bounding up the stairs.

He couldn't. He knew he couldn't.

* * *

Draco sat heavily on the sofa in the living area. There was no one here. Maybe no one coming. He didn't know what he was _doing._ One word from Black and he was running off to Gimmauld Palace to look for Potter as if he didn't hate Draco. He stared belatedly into the dimmed fireplace.

The last time he'd been here, it had been falling apart, covered in cobwebs. Now, it was mildly presentable, homey in places. Draco could understand why Harry would come back here. Though it wasn't just Harry he was waiting for; it was Hermione and Weasley and their anger toward him.

He stood, scowling over at the far wall. Enough was enough. He shouldn't be here. He shouldn't have been gone as long as he was. Harry probably wasn't even coming, and he was a fool to listen to Black, because even if Harry did need help, it wasn't as if Draco was in any position to _give_ it.

He flinched when he heard the loud bang from the entry hall. There was the shuffling of feet, a whisper of a voice, and then Mad-Eye Moody's spell demanding to know if the visitor was Severus as it had done to Draco. Draco felt a tremble go through him, forcing his face to stay blank at the reminder that _he_ had killed. Then he stepped out of the living area and into the entryway.

Harry froze when he saw him, his mouth half open, eyes wide, shoulders tense, wand gripped tight in his hand. Hermione was right behind him, staring at Draco with some mixture of shock and uncertainty and triumph that he had not expected, that he did not know how to read. Weasley was already opening his mouth to say something undoubtedly horribly witty, blinking rapidly as he shuffled his feet across the floor.

And the Harry launched himself at Draco, and everything but the sensation of Harry's fist against his nose was lost. He did nothing to stop it as they fell to the floor, Harry collapsing on top of him, one hand latching onto Draco's shoulder and the other thrown back to punch him again. Distantly, he could hear Hermione screaming something, but the only thing he could really focus on was the anger in Harry's eyes, the betrayal, the hurt, and it wasn't as if Draco didn't deserve it. He was just surprised Harry wasn't using his wand this time.

"Harry!" Draco registered with some surprise that was Weasley's voice. "Harry! Come on, mate, stop!"

Harry got one more good punch in before Weasley was wrenching him off Draco, dragging him back and holding him by his shoulders. Draco didn't bother to move; if they were going to pass judgement of him, they might as well just do it.

"Draco," Hermione's voice said. He opened his eyes to find her squatting down next to him, holding her hand out. Her face was soft, staring at him with brown eyes as if she could possibly understand. And like with Luna, he hadn't been prepared for her reaction.

He turned his head away, ignoring her hand and getting to his feet with a wince. Weasley had released Harry, who was still glaring at him, his green eyes dark and narrowed in a way that hadn't been directed at Draco in a long time.

"Why are you here?" Harry asked.

"I was looking for you," he answered.

"Oh, yeah? Trying to turn us into your precious Lord Voldemort?" he snapped, and Draco just stared at him. "I _saw_ you at the Burrow! Running around in Death Eater robes," Harry yelled, his voice echoing off the walls around them. "Your hood was back just a little too far, and I _saw_ you."

"That would be because I was there," Draco said, voice low, no excuses.

"What happened to everyone?" Weasley asked, and Draco eyes cut to him in surprise.

"Lupin, Black, Luna Lovegood, your father, and your sister were captured. I-," he broke off, his eyes flicking to Hermione, who was also watching him expectantly. She didn't think him a monster; he could tell from the look in her eyes. And Harry, Harry already hated him; he couldn't tell them. He just- "Moody was killed. I think everyone else got away."

"Oh," Weasley breathed out, collapsing against the wall behind him. Hermione was there in a second, patting his back, and Weasley's arms wrapped around her.

"This is your fault," Harry told him, his voice low and hoarse. As if Draco needed to be told.

"You think I don't _know_ that?" he answered, and Harry just turned his face away.

* * *

Draco sat in the middle of the bed, leaning back against the headboard. They'd taken his wand, and locked him up in one of the bedrooms so they could 'decide what to do with him.' Those had been Harry's words, Hermione had just sighed and cast Draco a pitying look before closing the door. He had heard the telling click of it locking afterward.

There had been loud yelling for a long time afterward, mostly Harry's voice, and he could only imagine the things he was saying about him. Though he couldn't for the life of him understand why Hermione—and it even sounded as if Weasley sometimes—was defending him. He leaned his head back; it had been quiet for a while now, and he figured someone would be up soon to tell him what was going on.

Still, he wasn't ready when Hermione came into the room, leaving the door open behind her as she did. She sat on the edge of Draco's bed, looking over at him with a weary expression as if she expected him to take off while he could.

He supposed he _should._ He shouldn't still be here; if the Dark Lord was looking for him, and he wasn't there…

"So," he asked. "What's it to be?"

"Harry's just hurt," she told him. "We all are."

"That's not what I asked," he said, pushing off the wall, turning his body away.

"For some reason, he's got it in his head that you chose to betray him," she continued, and he could feel her eyes on him.

"I _did_ ," he snapped, glaring at the wall. "I had a choice."

"See, but I was there when Theodore Nott was threatening your mother," Hermione insisted. "I saw you struggling all year with something, and I was the one who listened to you when you said you loved Harry. I saw the look in your eyes; I know you weren't lying."

"Does it matter?" Draco answered, feeling small and lost and hating it. He wanted to tell her the truth. He wanted to tell her about how Dumbledore had to recruited him into pretending to go along with the Dark Lord's plan even though he'd wanted to fight it. He wanted to tell her he still loved Harry and it tore him up when he saw the look in his eyes.

But the truth was that it _didn't_ matter. It couldn't matter; he couldn't afford to let it. Because the last time he'd let himself be affected his emotions, Moody had ended up dead. And he couldn't let the same happen to Harry, no matter what it cost him.

"I don't know," she sighed.

 ** _Sigh, late, short, and kinda awkward... So sorry. I had a serious case of the writers block for this chapter and the characters were just not helping me out!_** ** _Ah, well. I hope you enjoyed anyway, and next week will be better!_**


	40. Part 3: Chapter 4

_**Thanks for your lovely reviews!**_

 _ **Warning: Harry is stupid. Seriously, I hate myself for writing him in this chapter.**_

Chapter 4- To be Confronted

Hermione was talking to Malfoy in the drawing room when Harry waked in, the two of them sitting across from each other on the wide couch. And Harry really didn't understand how she could stand to be in the same room as him. For the most part, Ron was ignoring Malfoy, giving him a hard stare when he saw him and then leaving the room. If Harry didn't know better, he'd have thought nothing was different between the two.

Except, he did know better. Ron had to hate Malfoy. He had to feel the same way Harry was feeling. Except that every time Harry had said something Ron would just shrugged and left the room as if he didn't.

Malfoy turned to face him, his grey eyes cold and calculating. There was none of the warmth and acceptance Harry had thought he'd seen all last year. Draco looked wary, suspicious. As if he had any right.

Harry scowled, turning on his heel with the intent of storming out of the room, but Malfoy was talking again before he got a step away.

"So, you're looking for RAB?" he said, and Harry froze, turning to face him and Hermione, who was staring back at Harry with wide brown eyes even as Draco glared.

"You told him?"

"Harry, if we're forcing him to stay here, we can't just not tell him anything," Hermione answered. "Besides, if he was going to tell Voldemort about the Horcruxes, don't you think he'd have already done it?"

"How do you know he hasn't?" Harry snapped, pacing into the room. And he had no idea what he was going to do, but he knew he wanted to do something, anything that was worse than punching Draco in the face as he'd done before. "How do you know this whole thing hasn't been an elaborate plan just to get us to spill our secrets! It worked last time, didn't it?"

"Then, just let me leave!" Draco snapped at him, standing abruptly, and Harry noticed that he was the same height as him now. Over the summer, he'd grown while Draco had stayed about the same height, letting them even out where Draco had been taller than him before. And images of how much better at kissing that would make them came unbidden into his mind before he had to remind himself that it was _over._

And that only made him that much angrier. Because it was Malfoy's fault that it was over.

"If you don't want me to be here," Malfoy said, his voice low, eyes steady and cold on Harry's face. "Then, just let me leave."

"So, you can tell Voldemort where we are?" Harry answered, and he was standing right in front of him, only the back of the couch separating him and Draco, and he wondered if he took another step forward if he would be able to feel Draco's breath on his skin. If it would feel as good as he remembered.

"Harry, you're not thinking rationally about this," Hermione said, reaching out, putting one hand on Malfoy's shoulder, pushing him back. Malfoy scowled and turned away, shrugging her off with only his profile visible to Harry.

"Maybe _you're_ not the one thinking rationally," he muttered, and Hermione just sighed at him.

"Draco thinks he knows who RAB is, Harry," she told him.

"That's… convenient."

"Harry, I talked to Ron and-."

"You're talking to Ron about this behind my back, now!" he yelled, his voice rising, and he couldn't help feeling hurt. They were _his_ friends; they were supposed to be on _his_ side not Malfoy's. Especially, when he was _right_.

"Yes!" Hermione snapped back. "Because you're not listening! You're so stuck on what Draco did to you that you can't see what happened to him!" Malfoy shifted beside her, his gaze fixed over her shoulder as if he would rather have been anywhere else. And Harry hated how he cared even then.

"But he-."

"You're not the only one who got hurt, Harry," Hermione told him, and he froze. He _knew_ that. How could she think he didn't _know_ that? It was just…

His eyes flicked to Malfoy, to his set jaw and his cold eyes, and he forced himself to look away again. It wasn't as if he'd forgotten about how much Draco had struggled last year. It was impossible to forget the look that had been in his eyes when he'd apologized, when he'd cried, when he'd been determined to help Harry with Slughorn. It was just… easier to forget. Because then it became Harry's fault. His responsibility.

And he could already feel the burning in his eyes that came with thinking about everything that had happened. Because it was easier to blame Draco than to let himself think about the truth.

"Harry," Draco said, and his voice was so eerily horribly familiar, even after all the times Harry had convinced himself that he would never hear that soft concerned tone again. His eyes were the same, grey and anxious and probing, and it was easier when he'd been staring at Harry as if he didn't know him.

"Just tell me who you think RAB is?" he asked, and it was like flipping a switch.

Malfoy blinked once, his back straightened, eyes tightening, and he was cold all over again, unapproachable. It reminded Harry of their fifth year, when they'd been shagging, but not actually talking. And the idea was sort of comforting, in a horrible sort of way.

At least he knew what to do with this Malfoy.

"Regulus Arcturus Black," Malfoy told him. "He was a Death Eater, still has a room upstairs."

"What?" Harry blinked. "No, I would have seen-."

"I saw it when I was here last summer, and I saw it again when I was searching the house for you yesterday," Draco interrupted. "Besides, my mother was a Black. I'm pretty familiar with the family tree."

"So, Regulus Black was who?" Ron asked, stepping into the room and skirting around Harry. Harry frowned at him; he had a feeling Ron had been listening in, waiting for the right moment to come in.

"I'm pretty sure he was Sirius' brother," Malfoy answered with a shrug. "I think he's dead, now."

"You don't know," Harry sneered at him, and Malfoy threw him an unimpressed look that let Harry know he needed to work on his sneers.

"No, Potter, I don't know, because I didn't care up until right about now what had happened to him."

"So, shouldn't we search his room or something?" Ron asked.

"That's a good idea," Hermione answered, already standing. "Draco-,"

"Is staying here," Harry snapped, and Hermione turned to glare at him.

"Just let it go, Hermione," Malfoy muttered, already relaxing back into the cushions of the couch, and Harry felt a bitter chill go through him at the idea that Draco was still calling Hermione by her first name, but Harry was now Potter. As if everything between them really hadn't meant anything. "It's not as if I want to do manual labor."

Harry made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat and ducked out of the room, sure if he had to look at Malfoy for another minute, he was going to throw something.

* * *

Kreacher was still laying across the kitchen floor, sobbing as if he were a child. Hermione was crying silently, Ron looking on in something close to horror, and Harry had no idea what to do to calm him down. Only Malfoy seemed calm, staring down at Kreacher with something close to pity. He was the only one who hadn't moved, hadn't spoken all through Kreacher's speech.

After searching through Regulus' room and coming back empty handed, they'd moved on to looking through Kreacher's things, thinking maybe he'd snatched the locket at some point. The locket hadn't been there either, but it had been simple enough to call Kreacher and ask him if he'd seen the thing.

The story Kreacher had told had been interesting. A story of how Voldemort had used him to put the Horcrux into the cave, leaving him for dead. Then, Regulus saving Kreacher only to later betray Voldemort, using Kreacher to find the cave and retrieve the locket. Regulus had died in the attempt, asking Kreacher to destroy the thing for him.

And now, Kreacher was sobbing on the kitchen floor, because he had failed. Because Sirius had raided his stash, selling off the locket before Kreacher could steal it back from him. It was one of the few moments where Harry was truly upset with his Godfather.

"Purebloods never have had any respect for house elves," Draco muttered, still leaning against the kitchen table as if there wasn't an elf having a breakdown in front of him. It was one of the few times that it was horribly obvious to Harry where Draco had grown up.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, looking over at him with wide eyes. Draco just sighed, shaking his head without taking his eyes off Kreacher. And Harry remembered how Dobby had talked about Draco; how he had said Draco had always been kind to him. Now, he regretted not asking why.

"Kreacher," Harry said, trying to keep his voice even. "Do you, uh, mind standing up when, you're, you know, ready?"

Kreacher let out another loud sob before climbing to his feet, his hands over his eyes as if he expected to be punished. Harry couldn't help thinking of how Sirius was so cruel to him on a daily basis. How Harry never did anything to stop it. He'd never thought of it but looking at Kreacher now, he couldn't exactly defend his actions. Draco's words echoed in his ears, about how purebloods have never had any respect for house elves.

And he knew it was true. Even of Sirius, he knew it was true. He'd let it slide, because he didn't want to see it. But how was it fine for Kreacher to be mistreated but not Dobby. He looked up, meeting Draco's grey eyes easily. Draco was watching him carefully with a half-expectant expression, and Harry didn't know why he still cared what Draco thought.

"Kreacher," he said, looking back down at the elf at his feet. "I want you to have this," he dug in his pocket before holding out the fake locket, the one Dumbledore had died to retrieve. Kreacher stared at it for a long minute. "It belonged to Regulus, and I, um, I think you should have it now."

"For Kreacher?" Kreacher asked, taking the locket out of Harry's hands.

"For Kreacher," Harry confirmed, and in a strange reminiscent way of Dobby's, Kreacher's eyes filled with tears, and he collapsed to the ground in a fresh wave of sobs.

"I, uh, Kreacher," Harry said, trying to get the house elves attention.

"Maybe should have saved that bit for the end," Ron muttered, and Draco covered a snort with the back of his hand.

"You could help, you know!" Hermione snapped at him.

"Trust me," Draco answered easily. "Kreacher isn't too fond of me."

"What? Why?" Ron frowned, and Draco sneered over at him.

"Blood Traitor, Weasley. And not just of anyone, but of the Blacks and Malfoys specifically. I doubt he'd answer anything I asked him."

"Oh."

"Kreacher," Harry said again, trying to tune out their conversation. Did Draco really think Kreacher wouldn't respond to him or was it an excuse. It seemed like a pretty bad excuse; it wouldn't exactly have been hard to test. But then why-

"Master," Kreacher answered, straightening off the floor to stare up at Harry, and he promptly decided he didn't much like being addressed as such.

"Uh, right," he said. "Do you know who Sirius sold the locket to?"

"A merchant in Diagon Alley, Kreacher thinks," Kreacher said, his lips curving down as he said it.

"Right, but which merchant."

"Kreacher doesn't know."

"Well, I'd like you to, please, find who Sirius sold the locket to and then come back here," Harry decided, and Kreacher nodded slowly before he was gone with a loud pop, leaving the four of them standing awkwardly in the kitchen and staring at nothing.

* * *

Malfoy sat across from him, his nose buried in a book, half-turned away from Harry as he sat on the couch. They were alone in the drawing room, Hermione and Ron having retreated upstairs about ten minutes ago. And Harry was trying to stop himself from staring over at Malfoy.

Not that Draco seemed to notice at all.

He didn't know why he was staring. Not really. It wasn't like he even wanted to be in the same _room_ as Malfoy, much less look at him. But he couldn't help looking at the new bags under Draco's eyes, at the way he seemed to have lost weight. Not that he had weight to lose.

He jumped when Malfoy snapped his book shut, his head swiveling around to glare at Harry as if he'd personally offended him. Harry flicked his gaze down to the ground, avoiding Draco's eyes completely.

"Do you have something you want to say?" Malfoy asked, his voice the same as his eyes, cold, unfeeling, nothing at all like what it had used be between them. And Harry was talking before he knew what he was saying.

"Was it only ever about sex for you?" he asked, and the sharp intake of breath took him by surprise.

"Is that what you think?" Draco asked, and when Harry looked, he was somewhere between offended and hurt and sad, trying not to let Harry see, but somehow he wasn't near as successful as he usually was.

Or maybe this too was just pretend.

And Harry hated himself for not being able to figure it out. For not being able to figure it out from the beginning.

"I don't know what to think," he said, even though it was a lie. He thought there had been something wrong from the beginning, something he should have fixed or seen or done something about and he hadn't. He thought it was his fault just as much as it was Draco's, but that didn't stop him from hating Draco as much as himself.

"Yes, you do," Malfoy answered, and he was standing, moving across the room to standing in front of Harry, glaring down at him. As if he had any right.

"You have no idea what you're talking about," Harry snapped, standing to meet him, and their noses were so close. He could just lean forward. He could just- He knew what it would feel like. A few minutes of blissful passion where he could forget about everything that had happened between them and just _exist_ in Draco. He knew he could.

He also knew he couldn't live with himself afterward.

"No," Malfoy told him, his eyes silver-grey and pearly. "You're the one who has no idea. I was in love with you. It _killed_ me to do what I did—to not tell you as I did it," Harry gasped, and he felt abruptly like he was falling, colliding with the couch when Draco made no attempt to catch him. And Draco was panting, standing in front of him, looking tall and untouchable, and Harry didn't for a second miss the way he said _was_ instead of _is_.

"Then you cast an unforgivable at me," Draco continued. "You chased me across Hogwarts, and you tried to kill me."

"I didn't-."

"Secrumsempra, Potter? Ring any bells?" Draco snapped, and how was Harry only hearing the hurt in his voice just now. How had he missed- he hadn't know what the spell did but-

"You had just got Dumbledore killed," Harry answered, his voice a whisper of a breath, and Malfoy wrenched away from him, staring at him hard, his silver-grey eyes narrowed in that way he had when he was thinking hard.

"Dumbledore told me-," Draco started.

And they both jumped when the loud pop of a house elf Apparating sounded in the room. Malfoy snapped away, crossing the room and standing as far from Harry as was possible, and Harry blinked once, staring over as Kreacher wrestled a wizard to the ground. The wizard's wand went flying even as Harry watched them.

"Is he back?" Hermione asked, throwing the door open as she and Ron ran into the room.

"What the-?" Ron yelled, staring as Kreacher stood over the wizard. He was an older man, his hair greying as it was combed over his head.

"Kreacher has brought back the man who Master Black sold the locket to," he said, bowing low enough that his nose almost touched the ground.

"Did you tell him to kidnap someone?" Ron asked, his eyebrows up to his hairline.

"You told him to find out who it was and then come back here," Draco said, shrugging. "He took you literally."

"Right, well," Harry sighed, deciding it wasn't worth the trouble to correct. "Good job, Kreacher," Kreacher bowed low again. "Um, Mr…."

"Harmond," the wizard said, standing and brushing himself off as he glared at the four of them. "And may I ask what exactly I'm doing here?"

"Mr. Harmond, a man named Sirius Black sold you a locket, do you still have it?" Harry asked him.

"No," Harmond snapped, tilting his nose up at Harry. "I've already sold it. You can't buy it back."

"Who did you sell it to?" Hermione asked, and Harmond eyed her with an annoyed expression.

"I'm afraid that's privileged information."

"Mr. Harmond," Draco said, his voice quiet, and he turned toward Draco in surprise, his eyes widening as he seemed to realize who he was. "I think you can make an exception here."

"I- Mr. Malfoy, of course. I," Harmond fiddled with his robes for a moment, clearing his throat before speaking again. "It was a ministry witch. Her name was Dolores Umbridge, I believe."

"Ah," Draco answered, and he sounded so calm where Harry felt like he was in shock. He looked over at Hermione and Ron, their eyes wide as they stared back at him. "Thank you, Mr. Harmond."


	41. Part 3: Chapter 5

_**Hello everyone! So sorry I skipped last week. I was trying to get everything for my other stories in order. And because I'm a shameless self-promoter, These Broken Moons series is now complete and if you haven't read and would like to, go check it out!**_

 _ **On that note, thank you all for your wonderful reviews!**_

 _ **Warning: N/A**_

Chapter 5- The Lies

After the first week of living with Hermione in Grimmauld Palace, Draco decided that she was a terrible cook. Merlin knew she tried, but _really_ , there were only so many times he could choke down burnt toast. Weasley didn't even try to cook, preferring to stare at Hermione while she made inedible pasta as if she'd hung the moon. He didn't understand why the three of them wouldn't just let Kreacher cook; the house-elf _wanted_ to. He offered, but Hermione would put him off and insist she had it handled, and Harry would just shrug.

Which was how, Draco found himself standing in front of a stove for the first time in his life, staring at the knobs and willing it to make sense.

"What are you doing?" Harry's voice asked, and Draco groaned at the oven in front of him.

"I don't know how to turn it on," he answered, not bothering to turn around. He could do without seeing Harry's face right then.

Most of the past week, Harry had been stalking around the ministry in his invisibility cloak. When he _was_ at Grimmauld Palace, it was to talk strategy about how they would break into the ministry, not chat with Draco in the kitchen. And it wasn't that Draco had just expected Harry to suddenly want to be best friends again or something, but really, he could do without the outright avoidance.

"Oh," Harry said, and Draco could hear the amusement in his voice. "Here," and he was suddenly right there, his chest hovering at Draco's back as he reached over the oven and turned one of the knobs. Immediately, there was a click as a fire started burning under one of the plates on the oven.

The Blacks couldn't have found some kind of magially way to turn on their oven? Draco sighed, turning his head to watch as Harry withdrew his hand. They were standing about a foot apart, Harry staring at him as if he'd never seen him before. And Draco wondered just what Harry was thinking, just when he'd stopped knowing what Harry was thinking-if he'd ever known.

"You could have just asked Kreacher," Harry said, his voice quiet.

"I got the impression none of you liked asking Kreacher for things," Draco answered, and he knew he was staring at Harry; he knew, but Harry was looking back at him those bright green eyes, and he wasn't angry, and he wasn't hurt, and Draco couldn't help but revel in it. If only for a minute.

"I don't mind," Harry shrugged, ducking his head and looking up at Draco through his eyelashes. "It's Hermione it bothers."

"Well, I'm not sure I can take much more of her cooking skills," Draco said, and Harry smiled, biting his lip, amusement flashing in his eyes. And he was stepping forward, coming into Draco's space, holding onto the edge of the oven. Draco felt himself inhale, frozen, stunned. He had to be reading Harry wrong; he couldn't actually want-

But then Harry was right there, leaning into him, his hand fluttering against Draco's shoulder, up into his hair, his lips an inch from Draco's, and while Draco's mind was too stunned to react, his body responded. He leaned into Harry, his hand finding Harry's waist, his face dipping down to find Harry's lips.

And then Harry wrenched away from him with a gasp and a flinch, dislodging Draco's hands as he sprang about a foot away, his hand coming up and over his forehead, his eyes shining as if he were about to cry.

"I…" he stood in the middle of the kitchen, staring at Draco, trembling, pale, his green eyes wide and full of pain.

"Harry?" Draco asked quietly, stepping forward, but Harry flinched away again, and Draco had the distinct feeling he was missing something important.

"I'm sorry-I just-excuse me…" then he was turning and almost running from the room, leaving Draco standing in the kitchen like a fool.

Draco stared at the entrance for a long minute before chasing after him, moving down the hallway and stopping in front of the now closed bathroom door just as there was a disturbingly loud crash. He yanked on the handle, but it was locked and wouldn't budge, no matter how hard he pulled.

"Harry!" he yelled. "Harry, open the door!"

"What's up?" Weasley asked, suddenly standing in the hallway beside him.

"Harry's locked himself in the bathroom," Draco answered, tugging on the knob again. "I think his scar was acting up and then-," he flinched as Harry started yelling in the other room, terrible, strained screams as if he were being tortured. And Draco felt the horror and panic rising in him, making it hard to breathe, hard to think clearly.

"Harry!" Draco shouted out again, banging his fist against the door, and then Hermione was there too, standing at his back.

"What's going on?" Hermione asked, staring at him with wide eyes, and he was opening his mouth to answer when the door was yanked out from under him. He just managed to catch himself before he tumbled to the ground. Harry stood in the doorway, staring back at him with his face deathly pale and obviously trying to look as if nothing had happened.

"What were you doing?" Draco snapped, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him probably a little too harshly, panic turning to anger and worry making him reckless.

"I wasn't doing anything!" Harry answered, pulling away and scowling at him.

"You were yelling, Harry," Hermione told him.

"Malfoy said your scar was hurting downstairs," Weasley said, and Harry turned to Draco with an accusing glare.

"It _was_ ," Draco snapped. "I could tell."

"That doesn't mean you had to _tell_ them," Harry snapped back.

"What was I supposed to do?" Draco answered, and he couldn't stop the sliver of hurt that ran through him at Harry's tone.

"Harry, what did you see?" Hermione asked, her voice breaking through their glaring contest. Harry blinked once, turning his head toward her, and then he sighed heavily, sitting down on the closed toilet seat.

"Voldemort killed a woman; he didn't need to. She was just there, and he…"

"Harry, you need to stop seeing into Voldemort's mind," Hermione said, sounding frustrated and worried, and Draco knew this wasn't a _new_ conversation between the two of them. He just wondered how he'd missed it. How long it had been going on that he'd missed it.

"It wasn't like I was ever really good at Occlumency," Harry interrupted, his eyes flicking over to Draco and then away again.

"Was this happening last year?" Draco asked, talking over Hermione when she opened her mouth. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Like you were so easy to talk to last year," Harry snapped, and Draco felt himself flinch minutely. Harry's expression softened into something softer, more regretful, and he was opening his mouth, but Hermione was already talking over him, Draco turning his head away.

"That doesn't mean you can let it go now!" Hermione said, obviously settling in for one of her longer tirades.

"Never mind, Hermione," Draco said, and she stared at him, blinking slowly.

"What?" she snapped.

"What?" Harry answered.

"He can't help it," he said, his voice quiet, and Harry was staring at him, his green eyes wide and confused. But Draco was turning on his heel, moving down the hallway and away from Harry and the bathroom, because it was more than evident that Harry didn't want him around anyway.

* * *

Draco dreamt of fire that night. Of Dumbledore looking at him from over the top of his desk, smiling slightly with his spectacles slipping down the bridge of his nose. He was telling Draco not to do anything risky, to just stick to the plan all while his mother screamed and begged in the corner for Bellatrix to stop.

And Harry was burning, the fire all around Dumbledore's desk, but even he was just staring at Draco, looking with his green eyes wide and his face pale, and when Draco caught a glimpse out of the corner of his eyes, he would have sworn Harry's eyes were the Dark Lord's.

He saw Mad-Eye Moody falling, his body stiff and limp at the same time. Forever falling, his eyes hard and accusatory and dead. He saw the little muggle girl the Dark Lord had had such fun ordering him to torture. He saw the Muggle Studies teacher hanging above his kitchen table, Death Eaters seated all beneath her as the Dark Lord drifted through his house, silent as a ghost.

He saw Harry standing in front of him, blood running down his scar, his forehead a ruin of ash and charred flesh, and Draco couldn't help thinking, remembering all the things Dumbledore had told him, had made him promise not to tell Harry until the very end.

"You lied to me," Harry told him, and it was the truth. Even though Draco had been trying to save him. _Him_ and not the world because he'd never cared about the world when Harry had been involved. "I'll never forgive you."

Draco woke with a gasp, the strangled scream dying in his throat. He could feel his sweat seeping into the sheets around him, and he shuttered at himself, at how he must look. As far as he'd fallen the past year, the least he could do was _attempt_ to look dignified.

He ran a hand through his hair, feeling tired and sore and lost, and somewhere inside himself, he knew he was only doing what he had to do. It was what Severus had said to him, shouted at him, over and over. It was what Dumbledore had murmured, his voice calm, comforting. But that didn't exactly help him to feel any better about lying to Harry.

Again.

He pulled off his pajamas, slipping on a pair of trousers and a shirt before reaching for his robe. He tucked his robe around him before stepping out of his room, closing the door firmly behind him. It was the same room he'd stay in last summer with Harry just across from him. He could still hear Weasley snoring from the next door down. Hermione was in the room diagonal from him, across from Weasley, though her door was open.

When he stepped into the kitchen, it was to find Harry and Hermione both sitting across from each other at the table, talking in low voices.

"What's going on?" he asked; Hermione looking up at him slowly, her eyes dark and tired while Harry jumped hard, almost falling out of his chair as he turned to stare at Draco.

"You're awake," he said, which Draco found rather obvious.

"So are you," Draco answered.

"We were just… uh," his eyes flicked to Hermione, who frowned at him before moving back to Draco, green and wide and guilty. "Planning."

"Right," Draco answered, moving over to the oven. There was a pot of half-cook oatmeal sitting on the stove, smelling a little like Weasley's shoes after he'd gotten back from observing the Ministry.

"Oh, for goodness sake," Hermione huffed out a breath, pulling a newspaper savagely away from Harry and tossing it across the table toward Draco. "Snape's been made headmaster. I had to pull down the upstairs portrait of Phineas Nigellus since he's got a portrait in the headmasters office too, just in case Snape decides to tell him to have a look here."

"Oh," Draco muttered, looking down at the _Daily Prophet_ on the table. He'd known the Dark Lord had been planning on placing Severus back Hogwarts; he even recognized the two Carrow twins grinning into the picture with looks of equal vicious pleasure, but somehow, it wasn't real.

And it made it even less real with Hermione and Harry staring back at him, challenging him with the idea that Severus _really_ was a Death Eater. That he'd killed Dumbledore because he'd wanted to or some such nonsense. That he'd do whatever he could to catch them. And he couldn't say anything to disabuse them of the idea, because he'd sworn he wouldn't.

"You weren't expecting that?" he asked quietly, pushing the newspaper away from him. Hermione was looking at him softly, her brown eyes full of pity while Harry stared at him hard, green eyes a little too knowing on his face. Draco clear his throat and turned back to the stove, flicking his wand to summon a bowl. "The Dark Lord has control over the ministry now; it's not like he'd put McGonagall in charge."

"That's true," Hermione said.

"There's something else," Harry said, his voice sounding unusually loud as Draco spooned oatmeal into his bowl.

"Isn't there always?" he answered, dropping the bowl onto the table next to Hermione as he sat.

"Draco-," she tried, but Harry was already talking.

"I saw your father," Harry said. "Through Voldemort. I-."

"I don't want to know," Draco interrupted, holding his hand up, and Harry was still staring at him, his hair falling in its usually unruly wave across his scalp, his glasses perched high on his nose. And Merlin, he was gorgeous, and Draco wondered how he'd been stupid enough to lose him.

"But-."

"Harry," Draco sighed, and even he could hear how bitter he sounded. "I chose my side. I'll deal with the consequences when I can actually deal with them." There was a beat of silence after that, where Draco could feel Harry's and Hermione's eyes on him, but he refused to look up from the horrible oatmeal. And he was almost relieved when Weasley stumbled into the kitchen, still in his pajamas with his hair a mess.

"It smells good in here," he muttered, tripping his way over to the stove.

"Love has no sense of smell," Draco muttered, rolling his eyes to the ceiling.

"What?" Hermione asked, turning her eyes away from Weasley, and he could tell she was smiling.

"Is this all you learned out scouting the ministry this morning?" he asked, gesturing to the _Daily Prophet._

"Pretty much," Hermione answered. "I think we have a good grip on all the different routes people could take in and out. It'll only be a matter of if someone does something spontaneous when we do go in."

"You know," Draco said slowly, aware of how Harry was still watching him. "I could go with you. I know how the ministry works better than you and Potter at least."

"We can't risk-," Harry started, just like Draco knew he would.

"Draco's already given us so much information on the ministry," Hermione interrupted, sounding vaguely annoyed as she faced Harry. "I doubt he'll betray us now."

"That wasn't what I was going to say," Harry muttered.

"I think he should come," Weasley said. Draco stared at him, and Weasley frowned indignantly. "What? If you come then Harry can go under the invisibility cloak or something."

"It's settled, then," Hermione said, biting her lip as she looked around the table nervously.

"We should go tomorrow then," Harry said, his green eyes hard on Draco's, his face a challenge that Draco wasn't about to back down from.


End file.
